Blood Relations
by Leliha
Summary: Snape is treated in a Muggle hospital for the injuries he received from the Hippogriff. But Muggle methods may have strange consequences for wizards… SSOC, after HBP
1. Chapter 1

48

Blood Relations 

Snape is treated in a Muggle hospital for the injuries he received from the Hippogriff. But Muggle methods may have strange consequences for wizards… SS/OC, after HBP

Chapter One 

It was a calm summer night. The first light of dawn turned the sky from black to grey. Nothing stirred in the still, grey-coloured grounds of Malfoy Manor. The majestic 18th century building looked deserted. Suddenly with a soft _plop_ two figures materialized in the drive, right in front of the sign saying that this property belonged to the National Trust and would be open for visitors from 10 to 5 each day except Mondays.

One of the two figures swayed a little and leaned briefly on the other for balance. Then they hurried along the front of the building towards the left hand side, where the remains of the medieval castle still stood as a picturesquely overgrown ruin. There was a metal fence around it and a sign saying access was forbidden. The two figures seemed to melt through the fence and entered the castle through what was left of a large vaulted doorway…

Draco had barely knocked on the door when it was opened by a scared looking house-elf.

"Tell your mistress we're here," Snape said as they quickly pushed past the elf into the hall.

The elf turned without a word and ran upstairs. Snape sank heavily onto a high-backed chair and examined his bloodstained hands.

"Damn that hippogriff," he moaned and Draco saw that he was still bleeding from a wound on his neck. The collar of his shirt was red and his black cloak was ripped and probably soaked with blood, too.

"It should have stopped bleeding by now," he remarked.

"Yes, but obviously it hasn't," snapped his teacher, breathing deeply and trying to ignore his dizziness.

The arrival of Narcissa interrupted them. Draco's mother came running down the stairs and pulled her son into a nervous hug.

"Draco, you are here, you are safe, you fulfilled your duty…"

"No, as a matter of fact he didn't," Snape cut her short, "it was me who had to do the dirty work in the end, the Dark Lord won't be pleased."

Draco let out a muffled sob into his mother's shoulder.

"But, Severus, then Draco is… the Dark Lord is going to punish him."

Snape sighed impatiently. "Yes, Narcissa, he most certainly is. And if the Aurors get here first it's Azkaban for him. That's why you must go into hiding. Remember, we once talked about your plans. Now is the time to put them into practice."

Narcissa trembled. "But…"

Snape got up angrily, but had to grip the back of the chair in order to steady himself.

"There is no time for 'buts', woman. Take your son and run."

"And what about you, Severus, are you coming with us?"

"No, you will be safer without me. And apart from that, I haven't got the strength to go very far. There must have been something in that hippogriff's claws that prevents the blood from clotting."

Wearily he showed her the hand he had been pressing to the wound on his neck. Narcissa gasped, obviously she had not noticed the blood before.

"You need a healer, go to St. Mungo's!"

"Oh right, and from there straight to Azkaban," Snape sneered. "No, I think I'll have to rely on Muggle skills for once. You don't happen to have some Muggle clothes in the house?" Narcissa shook her head mutely.

Snape sighed. "Can you transfigure my clothes, Draco? I'm afraid I haven't got the strength for extra magic at the moment."

Draco slowly pulled away from his mother, took out his wand and pointed it at his teacher.

A little movement changed the robes into black jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket.

"Thank you. And don't hesitate, Narcissa, flee before it is too late. Both the Aurors and the Death Eaters will be here before long."

Then with a deep breath he disapparated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The taxi driver waiting for clients in front of St. Matthew's Hospital in London woke from his doze with a start as a man bumped into his car.

"Oy, be careful there! Fucking drunk, are you?" he shouted at the black-clothed man staggering on the pavement. Then he saw the blood.

"Damn, he's injured."

The driver got out of the car and reached the bleeding man just as he crumbled to the ground. Several other people stopped at the scene.

"Get help," the driver shouted and someone ran into the hospital. Soon two male nurses appeared with a stretcher and carried Severus Snape into the building.

"He's lost gallons of blood. The bleeding doesn't stop. Is he a haemophiliac?"

"Sir, can you hear me?"

Severus Snape did not react. He was too weak to speak, too weak to think, it was bliss just to sink into unconsciousness quietly. He did not notice the nervous activities surrounding him. Needles were put into his arms; his body was connected to beeping monitors.

"We need blood. Test him for his blood group."

"It's 0 positive."

"Right, get some units."

"There's nothing there."

"What?"

"Well, It's summer, supplies are low."

"We need a donor, right here and now!"

"Make an announcement in the hospital, hurry."

* * *

Claire Saunders was about to leave St. Matthews, still smiling sentimentally about her younger colleague's happiness with her new baby. It had been a difficult birth, the baby had been four weeks early, but now everything was fine and they would go home tomorrow. 

"This is an emergency. We need a donor with the blood group 0 positive; please contact medical staff or reception at once."

Claire stopped. That was her blood group. She had donated blood before occasionally, so why not? If she could help somebody… Claire turned and went to the reception desk. Some minutes later a young nurse arrived to take her to the right ward. She had to undergo a short health check, filled in a form, donated the blood and was given a cup of tea and some sandwiches. Then she went home, not realizing that these 30 minutes would change her life completely.

* * *

Severus Snape regained consciousness the following day. He would have liked to sleep on, the tiredness was still overwhelming, but there was this voice, friendly, but very determined and it would not stop. Also there were hands gently slapping his cheeks. So he opened his eyes reluctantly and tried to focus on the face above his bed. Woman, young, brown hair, blue eyes. 

"Sir, that's nice, you are with us." She turned. "Doctor Monk, the patient's awake."

Another white-clad woman bent over him.

"How are you? Do you feel any pain?" She took his arm and felt his pulse.

"No," his voice came as a hoarse whisper, "just tired".

"That's normal, you lost a great amount of blood, we had to give you a blood transfusion. You were very lucky that we found a donor. The wound on the neck has stopped bleeding, too. So all you have to do is drink and sleep. Can you give us your name, by the way?"

He swallowed. "S … Sam Smith," he croaked.

"Right, there are some formalities to go through, Mr Smith, but now just relax and we can do that tomorrow. Nurse Brown is going to give you something to drink. Is water all right?" Severus nodded and gratefully sipped the water from the cup with a straw the nurse held to his mouth. Then he sank back into the cushion and drifted off to sleep.

When he woke next, he felt much better, although his mouth was parched. Noticing that his body was still attached to a drip and to some kind of monitor, he carefully raised himself on an elbow and reached for the plastic cup at his bedside. He managed to put the straw in his mouth and took a deep gulp. The movement obviously had alerted the nurse – an older one this time, red hair, lots of freckles.

"Good morning, Mr Smith" – she didn't see that he started slightly at the name – "how are we today? Do you feel like breakfast?"

He nodded, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. The nurse helped him sit up and put a tray with tea and toast on his bedside table. Later a doctor came, felt his pulse and removed all the needles, tubes and electrodes from his body.

"Tell me, how did this happen?" he asked.

"I was attacked in the street, they stabbed me from behind, knocked me to the ground and robbed me," Snape said, having made up the story over breakfast.

The doctor frowned.

"Isn't that horrible? In broad daylight and in the middle of London! Did you see your attackers, can you describe them?"

"No, they came from behind, I didn't see anything."

"You should go to the police."

"What for? They can't do anything about it."

The doctor shrugged.

"Anyway, you must fill in this form. Name, address and so on. Perhaps the police will contact you. Now, tell me, why were you bleeding so heavily? You aren't blood sick, we tested that. Do you take some medication for thinning the blood?"

Snape nodded. He couldn't tell the doctor about hippogriffs, could he? The doctor wrote something in his notes and seemed satisfied.

"Right, that explains everything. If there are no complications you can go home tomorrow. Your GP can look after the wound."

Again Snape nodded, lay back and closed his eyes.

* * *

Claire woke up with a start. It was dark. She glanced at the clock. 2 a.m. Goodness, what a dream she'd just had! She felt her nightshirt clinging to her sweaty body. She'd never had such nightmares before. Dimly she remembered dark, faceless figures, screams of terror, torture and an overwhelming feeling of guilt… How had these images got into her mind? She never watched horror films. Bad dreams usually were about that car crash her husband had died in 18 months ago. Slowly she got up and went to the bathroom. The third night the dreams had troubled her. She would feel terrible tomorrow. Should she go and see a doctor? But what would be the use? She had been treated by a psychologist after the accident and she had not found it very effective. Claire sighed, washed the sweat from her face and returned to bed. 

_Thanks to JKR for the inspiring characters._

_I apologize if medical details are not correct. My knowledge about blood groups etc. is limited to what I learned in my biology lessons at school many years ago._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Is there anything I can do for you, Sir?" the school secretary asked the black-haired man standing in the entrance hall and looking somewhat lost.

"I'd like to speak to a teacher. Mrs Saunders. Is that possible?"

"Well, do you have an appointment?"

"No, but it's urgent."

"Right, Sir, wait a minute, please." She went into her office.

"You're lucky", she called, "Mrs Saunders has two free periods now. I'll try to phone her in her classroom. Can you tell me your name, please?"

"Yes, of course, my name's - Snape."

Had he expected a reaction? There was none. The secretary picked up the receiver and dialled. "Hello, Claire, this is Brenda speaking. Here's a parent who would like to speak to you. Is it possible now? Yes, a Mr Snape. Right, I'll send him to your room. OK, Mr Snape. Go up the stairs, turn left and it's the third door on the right. Modern languages department."

Snape mumbled his thanks and went in search of the classroom. Obviously it was break now, students were coming down the stairs. They looked different from Hogwards students, grubbier, their school uniforms in bad repair. And their behaviour! Shouting, pushing, dropping sweet wrappers – having to teach them certainly had to be a nightmare.

Finally he reached the classroom and found a woman waiting for him at the door.

"Hello, Mr Snape, have you managed to fight your way through the student hordes?"

She smiled and extended a hand. Small and slim. As was the rest of the woman. She looked like a – what was that Muggle kind of entertainment called? ballet? yes, she looked like a ballet dancer, with her brown hair pulled back into a tight bun. She wasn't exactly young, somewhere around his own age, but her smiling grey eyes had a youthful sparkle. Grey eyes, surrounded by black lashes, looking at him enquiringly. Hastily he took her hand and answered her greeting.

Claire did some rapid thinking, trying to place the man. She didn't have a student called Snape, she was sure about that, and she couldn't find any family resemblance between her visitor and a student. So who was he? Perhaps a stepfather? There were so many single parents with new partners. But these rarely cared about the children. She led the way to the front of the classroom and gestured invitingly to two chairs next to her desk. The man sat down and Claire took her notebook from her bag and sat in the chair facing him. He looked shabby, like many other parents at this school. Faded black denims, greyish-white shirt and a black jumper with a hole at the elbow. Pale skin, black greasy hair tied back into a ponytail. He certainly wasn't handsome, but there was some attraction in a dark and brooding way, there was something about his eyes… Claire pulled herself out of her reverie and changed into professional concern and cheerfulness.

"Well, Mr Snape, what can I do for you? I'm sorry, but I'm at a loss about which class your child is in …"

"I'm not a parent, Mrs Saunders, sorry, I only created this impression to get this appointment."

"Oh," Claire was taken aback, "so – what do you want?"

He took a deep breath and studied the hands in his lap – tight fists, white knuckles, he certainly was tense. Then he looked up.

"Have you had any nightmares recently?" he finally asked.

Claire stared at him. What was going on here, who was this man?

"What - I mean, how – who on earth are you?"

"I'm Severus Snape. I'm a wizard. And I'm wanted for murder."

He sounded emotionless like a newsreader. Claire got angry.

"I haven't got time for silly jokes. Would you please leave my room!"

She was about to get up, but he placed a hand on her knee.

"No, wait, please listen to me. Sorry, I couldn't find a better way to start. I know it sounds crazy, but I am a wizard. There are many of us around, we're some kind of parallel society with schools, hospitals, a ministry, a prison... Usually we avoid contact with Muggles – non-magical persons – but ours is a special case. I have to speak to you."

His hand was still on her knee, well shaped, long fingers, she thought as she looked at it. He followed her gaze and withdrew it.

"Please."

Claire settled into her chair again.

"If you are a wizard, can you prove it and do some magic?" she asked with a sarcastic undertone.

He uttered a sad laugh. "No, unfortunately I can't. As I told you the ministry is after me, they can track any magic done, and if I performed it here, the Aurors most certainly would show up in ten minutes' time."

"Aurors?"

"Wizard police."

"Oh, I see."

They looked at each other in silence. He sighed.

"Let me ask a different question: Did you donate blood at St. Matthew's Hospital about four weeks ago?"

"Yes," Claire breathed.

"And soon afterwards the dreams started?"

"Yes, but how do you know?"

"Well, I received your blood, and these dreams – they are mine."

"Yours?" Claire stared at him, no, he wasn't joking, he looked dead serious.

"But they are horrible…"

"Yes, they are horrible."

His voice sounded flat. He looked at his shoes, avoiding her curious gaze. Silence. Claire listened to the playground noises outside. He made a new start.

"Let me explain: Blood transfusions usually are not used among wizards, we have other methods. But I couldn't go to our hospital – "

"Because of the Aurors?"

"Yes, the Aurors, so I had to rely on Muggle medicine. I didn't know what would happen.

I suddenly started dreaming about a car accident. As we don't drive cars, this couldn't be my memories, so I guessed that the blood transfusion had established some connection between us."

"Connection", Claire repeated thoughtfully, "but – how did you know it was me?"

"Oh", he shrugged and avoided her eyes, "just some – investigation in the hospital's file cabinet."

Claire nodded. "But – why is it so important? I mean, these dreams are a nuisance and I would like to get rid of them, but what is the disadvantage for you?"

He looked at her for a moment, massaged the bridge of his nose and said, "Listen, I'll explain it to you. It's a complicated story, but I'll try to make it short. There is a Dark Lord in the Wizarding world, who wants to gain absolute power. His followers are called Death Eaters and I'm one of them. He wants to control us completely, so he – as you would say – reads our minds regularly. Usually I can influence what he is allowed to see or not, but if he catches me in a weak state, he may find you there. And he - doesn't approve of Muggles and certainly wouldn't appreciate my being somehow bound to one. He would kill you – and me."

Claire cleared her throat. "Why do you care? You said you were a murderer and a – Death Eater, so why do you care if I die?"

"Didn't you listen? He'd kill me as well."

There was a strange look in his face.

"Don't ask silly questions," he said roughly, "just do what I tell you."

"And what is it?"

"You must use Occlumency."

"What?"

"Don't interrupt, listen!"

He leant closer to her.

"You must empty your mind every night before you fall asleep. You must block your thoughts if you feel that they are running away, block your mind."

Claire laughed. "As easy as that," she said sarcastically. "Sorry, but I don't think I can do it. I tried meditation once and it didn't work."

"You must try. I do my best, but it is really effective only if both of us do it. Don't you understand, this connection between us is dangerous."

His black eyes probed into hers, willing her to cooperate. She swallowed hard.

"Oh, very well, I'll try. But I can't promise any positive results."

He sighed.

"Let's see if you can do it."

"Now?"

"Yes, now. I'll try to enter your mind and you must try to reject me."

He forced his black eyes into hers. Claire felt her brain reel, she couldn't control her thoughts and memories, everything came flooding past her. The funeral, all the mourning relatives, herself in hospital after the car accident, the moment the car hit the tree. No! NO! She held her breath and stemmed her mind against the flood. Nobody knew and nobody should know about this. About the fact that they had argued violently before the accident, herself confronting him with the news that she knew about his girl-friend and that she was not going to accept it, that she would make it public and destroy his promising political career. He had tried to hit her in the face and thereby caused the car to swerve and crash into the tree. No! She sobbed. A headache was beginning to throb above her right eye. He took her hand.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to hurt you, I didn't know…"

She looked up.

"What did you see?"

"Nothing I didn't know before. You are a natural Occlumens, Mrs Saunders, I don't understand why, but it's very useful in our case."

He leaned back in his chair. "If you do it properly every night, we will be able to stay out of each other's life and nothing will happen to you."

"Right, I'll just slam the door of my mind into your face," Claire said with a faint attempt of humour. He scowled.

"I'm serious."

"Oh, absolutely, so am I."

She massaged her brow.

"Sorry, but my next lesson is starting in five minutes, so I'm afraid you must go now."

She extended a hand, he took it, held it for a moment, his black eyes glittering and unfathomable, and left.

_Thanks to JKR for the inspiring characters._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

During the following weeks Claire often pondered over this strange encounter. She tried to find out about wizards in libraries and on the Internet, scanned newspapers for anything about Death Eaters and a Dark Lord, but she always drew a blank. If a Wizarding society really existed, it kept itself well hidden. She also caught herself looking for her visitor in the streets, but with millions of people living in London, she told herself, this was highly improbable.

At night she tried her best to 'empty her mind' and 'block her thoughts'. She didn't know if she did it correctly, but somehow she succeeded in getting rid of the nightmares.

Autumn passed into winter. Claire and two of her colleagues were heading for the underground station after the school Christmas dinner. It was a wet, foggy night. Claire had left her car in the school car park; the other two lived near the end of the underground line.

"Is it alright for you to walk to the car park alone?" Mark, an elderly history teacher asked. Claire laughed. "Yes, of course, it's only five minutes, I'll be fine."

Mark shrugged. "Well, it's not the best neighbourhood and it's past midnight."

"Don't worry, I'll manage."

Claire left the train at the next station and climbed the stairs into the street. It was even foggier here. Were there footsteps behind her? She paused and listened. Nothing. She shook her head and set off briskly towards the school. When she turned into a dimly lit alley she heard the steps again. She quickened her pace. Then she saw two figures in front of her. She stopped and looked over her shoulder: Two figures behind her.

They were getting closer. Panic began to rise. This couldn't be true, this couldn't happen to her! Claire wasn't able to do another step, she just stood and waited. Four men, young by the look of their clothes and movements, hoods drawn up against the cold or to hide their faces.

"Hey, look what we've got here."

One of them approached her, snatching her handbag before she could do anything. He opened it and looked inside.

"What's that? Five quid and an old mobile? That all?"

Clare nodded. She had left her large bag in the car. Angrily, the man pocketed the money and the phone and threw the bag at her.

"You're wasting our time," he hissed at Claire.

"No," one of the others said. "she owes us something, doesn't she? Couldn't pay the toll." Slowly he sauntered up to Claire. She moved backwards in panic, away from him, until she hit a brick wall. Quickly he was upon her and pressed her to the wall. Claire tried to think of everything she had ever heard of such situations. What was one supposed to do? Shout? She took a deep breath, only to find a hand clamped over her mouth

"Don't even think of it."

Another hand tore at her coat, at her dress, groping for her breast.

Desperately Claire struggled against the man's body.

"Hold still, you bitch."

He slapped her face. With a movement of his head the man ordered his companions over; two of them came, took her arms and pinned her to the wall. She felt her dress rip. He tore at her underwear. She tried to kick him, which resulted in another slap on her face. She could taste blood on her lip.

"Stop it. Leave her!"

The voice was soft, but menacing. The men let her go and turned. Claire sank to the ground. A dark figure had appeared in the alley, shrouded in black from head to toe.

"Who are you to tell us what to do? We're just having fun."

"Leave her," the voice repeated.

One of the men went for the newcomer, only to find himself lying on the ground a second later. The dark figure had hardly moved.

"Right, who's next?" he sneered.

The largest of the four lurched forward - and joined his friend on the ground. Suddenly, Claire saw a knife glimmering in the hand of the one who had attacked her. She gasped as he jumped at the stranger's back. But the dark man spun round, caught the attacker's wrist and a sharp kick into his groin sent the knife to the floor.

Quickly the stranger picked it up and confronted the four men.

"Can you do now as you are told? Leave."

His voice was cold and hard as steel. They struggled to get up and ran away.

The stranger came over and lowered himself next to Claire. He gasped in surprise and pulled down his hood. Claire's jaw dropped.

"You!" She breathed.

Severus Snape inclined his head in an imitation of a bow and gave her a wry smile.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No, I'm fine," Claire answered.

He stood and pulled her up, too.

"It's too cold on the ground. Are you alright?" He looked at her intently.

Claire realized that her bare breasts were showing under her torn dress. Hastily she pulled her coat closed.

Then she started trembling. She couldn't help it, couldn't stop it. Her teeth were chattering,

tears running down her cheeks. Snape watched her helplessly for a few minutes, then put his arms around her awkwardly and pulled her to his chest. Claire stiffened for a moment, but then gratefully accepted the warmth of his body, the regular rhythm of his heartbeat and the soft stroking of his hand on her back. Finally she relaxed and when she thought that she could control her body and her voice, she stepped back.

"Thank you," she said, wiping the tears from her face. "I'm sorry, it's so stupid of me…"

"Wandering around this alley in the middle of the night? Alone? That really is stupid."

His voice was rough with anger.

"I just wanted to go to the school car park, it's not far from the tube station. We had our Christmas dinner tonight…" she trailed off, shrugging.

"So you're on your way home. Are you capable of driving?"

Claire nodded. "Yes, absolutely, I'm better now, I think I can drive. I'll be on my way now. Thank you for your help."

She smiled at his doubtful expression and turned into the direction of the school, when suddenly brown specks appeared before her eyes and she crumpled to the ground.

He caught her before she hit the floor.

"I don't think you can drive," he muttered, "and I don't think you should stay alone tonight. Do you like pizza?"

Claire just stared at him. He smiled.

"I've just bought one and I'm going to share it with you."

He reached at the top of the brick wall and took down a pizza carton, then put his arm around her shoulder and steered her out of the alley.

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspriring characters_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

His home was a bed-sit in a run-down housing estate. A high-rise from the 1970s, lift out of order, dirty, graffiti-covered staircase, prams on the landings, cooking smells and worse. He unlocked his door and sat her down in an old threadbare armchair. Claire looked round. The flat was small, and there was hardly anything in it except books. Stacks of books were everywhere along the walls. Everything from old, valuable leather-bound volumes to paperbacks. And the rest: A mattress in the corner with a sleeping bag and a blanket, a chair and a small table at the window and the armchair she was sitting in next to an old-fashioned reading lamp. A naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling, a dark-brown worn carpet on the floor. Snape was rummaging in the hall, which also served as a small kitchen. Then he appeared in the doorway.

"Do you mind eating with your fingers? I haven't got much cutlery."

Claire laughed. "No, I don't mind. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course, it's there." He indicated a door to his right. "And – wait – your dress…"

He went to a cupboard next to the mattress and handed her a t-shirt.

"You can put this on if you want to. It's clean."

Claire smiled a thank you and went to the bathroom.

"There's a clean towel on the top shelf," he called through the door.

"Oh, thank you."

She looked at her face in the small mirror over the washbasin. Two bruises began to show where she had been hit. She washed her face and her hands, ran her fingers through her hair and changed into the black t-shirt, which came down to her knees. The dizziness had gone and a strange feeling of unreality overcame her. What was she doing here in this mysterious man's bathroom? Was she really going to spend the night with him? She shook her head and went outside.

He had laid the table: The pizza carton in the middle, a glass and a mug, a bottle of red wine and some paper napkins. He carried the armchair to the table and motioned to her to sit in it.

"I'm afraid the pizza's cold. I can't re-heat it, the oven's out of order."

He poured the wine into the glass and the mug and sat down. Claire took a slice of pizza. It was cold, and she wasn't really hungry, besides, her lip hurt where she had been hit.

He raised the mug and toasted her. "To your rescue," he said ironically.

"To my rescuer," she answered, "the knight in shining armour."

He snorted. "I would be totally miscast in that role. However, a woman your age should have more sense, Mrs Saunders."

She nodded and shrugged. "After all that's happened, call me Claire. By the way, was that magic you used against these men?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. "I'm Severus. And, no, it wasn't magic, I told you I can't use it. It was a little display of martial arts."

They ate in silence. The wine was good, it soothed her over-wrought nerves. She felt oddly at peace now. There was nothing embarrassing in their lack of conversation; there was comfort in his silent presence. She let her head sink to the back of the chair.

"Are you tired?" he asked softly. She woke with a start, she hadn't realized that her eyelids had dropped.

"You can have the mattress."

She wanted to protest, but he raised his hand.

"It's OK, you are exhausted, lie down."

Gratefully she did so, covering herself with the blanket and fell asleep at once.

She was back in the foggy alley, black figures closing in on her, they were wearing hooded cloaks and masks covering their faces. They reached out at her with skeletal fingers, grabbing her clothes, her face, getting ever closer, suffocating her, taking away her breath, she wanted to scream…

Strong arms pulled her away, a calm voice repeated, "it's alright, you are safe", over and over again, until she finally emerged from the dream and found herself sitting on the mattress held by the arms of Severus Snape. The reading lamp was on and a book was open face down on the armchair.

"Sorry," she whispered, "bad dream."

"Obviously. Were you back in the alley?"

"Yes, but there were lots of black men, hooded and masked…"

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Hooded and masked, hm."

After a pause he shrugged.

"Well, dreams can run havoc. Do you want to go back to sleep?"

Claire shook her head. No, she shuddered; she didn't want to see those pictures again. He ran a hand over his face, obviously trying to think of something to do with her. His eyes fell on the book.

"Would you like to read?"

Claire couldn't help laughing. He looked offended and turned to get up.

"Severus, wait, I didn't want to be rude, reading is a good idea."

He made a sweeping gesture around the room.

"You're welcome."

Claire took the topmost book from the stack nearest to her. "Potions for every ailment." she read. She took the next one. "The correct use of love potions." She frowned and looked up. Snape had settled in the armchair and gone back to his book. She picked up the next volume, a very heavy one. "Potions through the ages." Curiously she turned the pages, reading some passages about the disastrous effects of the lack of cauldron hygiene in the Middle Ages.

"I used to teach potions."

She jumped when he suddenly spoke.

"You used to teach? Where?"

"At Hogwarts, the school for wizards."

"Why did you give it up?"

"I had to. I killed the headmaster."

Claire laughed, "Oh, yes, that's what we all would like to…. do from time to time," she had wanted to say, but stopped in the middle of the sentence. He had got up and was standing in front of the window now, his back to her, and she realized that he'd really meant it. He had said that he was wanted for murder at their first meeting, so that was it. Killed the headmaster.

"Oh," she said in a small voice, staring at his rigid back and at his clenched fists. "Why?"

The question escaped her without thinking.

He spun round, glaring at her, obviously angry with himself for having revealed so much. "That's none of your business. I'm not going to tell you the story of my life, it doesn't concern you at all," he shouted.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking away from his livid face, back to the book in her lap. She kept on reading without taking in any of the words. Finally he sighed and sat down again in the armchair.

"I apologize," he said hoarsely.

Claire looked up and smiled. Their eyes met and her mind was drawn to his. A feeling of utter despair and loneliness overcame her. He jerked his head away, panting like after a long run. Claire felt her cheeks become hot and she bent over her book again. She tried to concentrate on the text whilelistening to his breathing going back to normal, casting furtive glances at him, looking away as soon as she felt his eyes upon her. They did not speak to each other any more that night.

Claire awoke with a splitting headache to the smell of coffee permeating the room. She was lying on the mattress, covered with the blanket. She couldn't remember having fallen asleep. She stretched and got up. He was in the kitchen, making toast.

"Good morning," he said, when she appeared in the doorway, "breakfast is nearly ready."

She yawned, he appeared calm and polite, had he forgotten the events of last night or had she just imagined them? She went into the bathroom. The mirror showed her a pale face with two bruises now clearly visible and a swollen lip. She grimaced and had a shower, first hot, then cold, hoping she would feel and look better afterwards.

When she had finished, breakfast was ready. "How do you like your coffee?" he asked. "Black and no sugar."

"Good, because we have to share a mug. Do you mind?"

She shook her head and they sat down once again at the small table, facing each other over toast and the shared mug of coffee.

"You don't have many guests," Claire remarked, reaching for the coffee mug.

"None," he replied. "I'm hiding from the Aurors. And I don't like company."

He stared at her defiantly, blocking any further comments with his hard eyes. She blushed and fell silent.

"These bruises are not very becoming", he finally said. He got up, fetched a small glass jar from the bathroom and applied a sweet-smelling cream to her cheek and her lip. Claire felt an odd sensation in the depth of her stomach when his cool finger gently stroked her face. The pain lessened almost at once. She swallowed and tried to control her breathing.

"I'll walk you to your car later, we're not going to take any risks. This area is not very nice even in daylight."

Claire finished her toast, changed back into her torn dress and her coat and declared herself ready to go. He put on an ancient-looking waxed jacket and they walked to the car park in silence. Claire cleared her throat.

"I guess we stay out of each other's lives again," she finally said when they had almost reached her car.

"Yes, we do," he answered, his voice cold, stopping to face her. "We have to. And continue using Occlumency. It works, you're really very good at it."

Claire gave a wry smile. "Don't worry, I'll do my best. Thank you for everything."

She extended a cold hand and he held it for a moment in his, which was equally cold. Then he turned and left without looking back once.

Claire sighed and unlocked the car.

"Now what do you think you're doing?" she asked herself. "You're a sensible 36 year old widowed teacher. You don't fall in love with a mysterious, dark, brooding stranger like a 16 year old girl from a Victorian novel."

She started the engine and put her foot on the accelerator rather too violently.

Severus Snape returned to his flat. He cleared the table and washed the dishes. Then he collected the towel and the t-shirt Claire had used. He held the t-shirt in his hands, looked at it, then brought it up to his face, trying to find her scent. For several minutes he stood like this, lost in thought. Then he shook himself and tossed the t-shirt into the carrier bag containing his dirty laundry.

"Sentimental fool. What do you think you're doing?" he said angrily, picked up the bag and left the flat for a launderette.

_Thanks to JKR for the inspiring characters._


	6. Chapter 6

_Thank you to all the friendly reviewers. So here's another chapter, and yes, Mark Darcy, they go to Claire's place now._

**Chapter Six**

It was April, the last week of term. It was a wonderful, warm and sunny day with a blue sky, daffodils in the parks moving in the soft breeze. Claire was on her way home after school. The traffic was heavy as usual, but today she didn't mind. She had the window down and enjoyed as much of the spring air as was possible in the middle of London. Her thoughts were on the holidays. She had not planned anything so far, she toyed with the idea of going to France for a week, or to Scotland, or perhaps she would just stay at home doing nothing. The traffic lights changed from red to green and back again and Claire was able to drive a few yards, hoping to get across next time. Absent-mindedly she watched the pedestrians cross the street and wait at the bus stop. Everybody seemed to wear their new summer clothes and be in a good mood today. Her eyes fell on a figure stumbling across the street, holding on to the traffic-light post on the other side for support and doubling over as if in pain. The figure looked out of place on such a day, being covered in some tattered black garment, hood up to hide the head completely. "Drunk and homeless," Claire thought. The figure made a few staggering steps, collided with a youth on a skateboard and both collapsed on the pavement. The hood fell down and Claire could see long black hair and a prominent nose. It took only a moment to give a name to that face.

"Severus!" she exclaimed in horror.

The youngster picked himself up, shouted something rude at the black bundle and kicked him for good measure. Then he was gone. People stopped and stared, but nobody tried to help. The traffic lights changed to green and Claire drove into the bus stop, got out of the car and crouched next to the fallen man. It was Severus indeed, but in a very bad condition. He was thinner than she remembered him, he was dirty and he smelled of unwashed body. Blood was trickling from his nose and he certainly was in pain, his body shaking with spasms.

"Help me," Claire said to a tall man standing by, "I have to get him into the car."

"You know him? What's the matter with him? Is he drunk or ill?"

"Ill," Claire answered, trying to assume an official looking attitude, "I'm his social worker. I'm going to take him to a doctor."

The man directed a disgusted look at the prone figure, but he bent down and helped Claire to lift Severus, who was struggling against their grips. Together they managed to bundle him into the passenger seat of her car. Claire saw a bus approach the stop, hastily thanked the man and steered the car back into the traffic.

"Why didn't you …" Severus clenched his teeth when a spasm overcame him. Claire handed him a box of tissues for his nose.

"Why didn't you leave me alone?"

"You didn't leave me alone in the alley that night, did you?" Claire answered, concentrating on changing lanes.

"Now, where shall I take you? Your flat or a hospital?"

"Flat - doesn't exist any more," he said, exhaling painfully, "the Aurors found it."

All his books gone, she thought.

"So where do you live?"

"I have been sleeping rough for two months."

That explained the filth and the stench. Another spasm.

"So it's going to be a hospital," Claire stated.

"No!" he grabbed her arm, nearly causing her to collide with the car on her right. "Just, - just let me get out and leave me."

"Certainly not," Claire answered firmly, "I'll take you to my house."

"I don't need your pity!" he hissed.

"Fine, you won't get any. But you do need help. So stop arguing and don't interfere with my driving. There's an awful lot of traffic and I don't want to crash into a car because of you."

He snorted.

"You don't know what you are doing," he said through clenched teeth as another spasm hit him, "you – have – no idea – of the danger you're getting yourself into."

"Oh, I've been driving in London for twenty years, I know it's dangerous," she said lightly, deliberately misunderstanding him.

He sighed and muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse.

The rest of the drive was done in silence. At home Claire got out to open the garage. She silently praised the architect for the idea of building a door connecting the garage and the hall, so that she could get her passenger into the house without presenting him to nosy neighbours.

Severus denied her offer of help and limped painfully into the house. Claire directed him upstairs to one of the spare bedrooms, while trying to breathe through her mouth to avoid his stench.

"Have you got any suggestion what we can do about your pains," she asked him when they had reached the top of the stairs, Severus clutching the banisters, beads of sweat glistening on his face, trying to regain his breath after his struggling ascend.

"Hot water – a bath would be best," he gasped.

Hot water certainly was a good idea. She led him into the bathroom and started running the bath. She doubted that he would be able to get into it on his own and told him to get undressed so that she could help him. He stared at her in horror.

"Oh, come on, do you think I don't know what a naked man looks like? You can't take a bath fully dressed, can you?"

With a shrug of defeat, he started unfastening the black cloak. Undressing was very slow and very hard work for him. He flinched when Claire took his arm to help him into the bath, but then he lay back in the hot water, closed his eyes and an expression of relief came over his face.

"Now, please don't drown, " Claire said. "I'm going to make your bed and fetch you some clothes. Yours need washing."

He didn't answer, so Claire went about her tasks. She gathered his clothes and put them into the washing machine. She dragged a large cardboard box full of her late husband's wardrobe from the corner of the utility room, selected some basic items of clothing and carried them upstairs. Then she made the bed, picked up a bathrobe and went back to the bathroom. She knocked on the door and when there was no answer, opened it and went in. Severus was asleep. She had a closer look at his body: Muscular, but very thin and covered with scars and bruises. An ugly-looking tattoo on the inside of his left forearm. Suddenly she became aware of what she was doing and how embarrassed he would be if he knew. She closed the door with a bang and he woke, looking confused.

"You shouldn't fall asleep in the bath, there's a bed waiting for you."

Claire smiled. "Shall I help you with the washing?"

He opened his mouth and looked as if he wanted to give an angry retort, but then thought better of it and simply nodded. Claire reached for the shampoo, squeezed some into her palm and started massaging the black head.

Half an hour later he was in bed, completely exhausted, and so was Claire. Despite his leanness it had been hard work getting him out of the bath and into the pyjamas. The spasms were still there, but less violent and less frequent. She had given him a hot water bottle and he had drifted off almost immediately.

Later, before going to bed herself, Claire looked after him again and found him still peacefully asleep. Maybe the first good sleep he's been having in two months she thought and went to her own bedroom.

He wasn't awake when she had to leave for school the next morning. She put some coffee in a thermos flask and made some sandwiches and put everything on the bedside table together with a note telling him he should feel at home and when she would be back.

She went through her lessons rather absent-mindedly, too occupied with what her guest might be doing. On her way home she did some shopping and arrived at her house rather late.

Leaving the car in the drive, she opened the front door.

There he was, sitting at the bottom of the stairs, head in hands, fully dressed in her husband's jeans and sweatshirt, shivering and trembling.

"Severus!" Claire exclaimed.

She put down her basket and sat next to him on the step.

"What has happened?" For an answer he uttered a low moan and shook his head. She looked at him thoughtfully. Then she understood.

"You tried to go away. You – you obstinate, stupid -, you…" "Bastard? Git?" he looked at her, defeat written all over his face.

"Well, as you can see, I didn't get very far, in fact, I became dizzy and fell down the stairs. I think I sprained my ankle," he said bitterly, hiding his face in his hands again.

"Let me have a look. Right or left?"

He raised his right foot and Claire gingerly removed his boot. The ankle was swollen. She sighed.

"Let me take you into the living-room." She helped him stand and they did their painful procession down the hall. She seated him on the sofa, covered him with a blanket and went to get some ice for his ankle.

"Don't do anything stupid for the next half hour or so. I will be in the kitchen, cooking dinner."

They didn't talk much during the meal, but when the plates were cleared away, Claire sat down again, determined to get some information.

"I don't want to intrude on your privacy, but would you mind telling me how you got into such a state?"

"Cruciatus-curse," he said curtly.

"Hm, right. I'm a Muggle, you know, I need some further explanation."

"It creates pain, it makes you writhe and scream with pain. And the longer you are exposed to it, the worse is the aftermath: Trembling and spasms. You can even go insane, if it is held for very long."

Claire felt a shudder creep down her spine. "Who would want to do such a thing?"

He sighed, "Nobody in their right mind, I suppose. It is one of the Unforgivable Curses, you go to prison if you use it. But it is popular among Death Eaters, they torture their victims, and the Dark Lord uses it on a regular basis to punish his followers."

"What? His followers? " Claire stared at him in horror.

"Oh yes, if you want absolute obedience, creating fear and terror probably is a necessity."

"So he punished you? Why?"

"I couldn't fulfil a task he gave me in time. And he doesn't really trust me, he suspects me of being a traitor," Severus said calmly.

"Are you?" Claire asked.

He played with a stray pea on the table and shrugged, his eyes on the small green ball. Claire said nothing, she watched the movements of his fingers.

Suddenly he broke the silence, grabbed her hand and leaned closer to her.

"Do you understand now why I wanted to leave your house? The Dark Lord let me go away yesterday, but if his wrath increases I won't be so lucky next time he summons me. And if they find me here, it will be death for both of us. Death and – worse."

She met his gaze, then turned away and ran her free hand through her hair. This was the 21st century, the age of social security, computers, mobile phones and the internet – and here was someone telling her about torture curses and Dark Lords, sounding like the plot of a fantasy novel. It couldn't be reality, and yet – his pain had been real, there was no doubt about that.

He let go of her hand and sat back.

"You don't believe me." His face looked very pale and drawn.

"I wish we would never have met again. I wish I could go, I don't want to be a nuisance, I don't want to be a burden to you."

His voice sounded desperate.

"You are too weak to go," Claire said softly. She got up and went over to him.

"And as for meeting again – you certainly are a not an easy man to know, you do have a temper, you are ill, you need care – but I rather like you."

She grinned as he stared at her, obviously trying very hard to find something to retort.

His voice was barely a whisper: "You can't really mean that."

"What? That you need care or that I like you?"

"Nobody likes me. People tolerate me, because they need me, use me; students hate me, fear me, most of the Wizarding community despise me, there is nobody who likes me, do you hear me, nobody at all."

He had become very agitated, had risen from his chair and was now towering over her.

"I'm not a nice man, I totally lack good looks and social skills, I have a dreadful temper – and I've never made an effort hiding my dislike for other people's company. So the feeling' s mutual."

He still spoke in a whisper, but his voice was full of contempt and bitterness.

"What you feel is pity, because I'm injured and weak, incapable of looking after myself, typical female helper's syndrome, that's what it is, you certainly DO NOT LIKE ME."

He took a deep shuddering breath and had to clutch at the back of the chair for support. He glared at her and Claire held his gaze. Again she could sense the despair and loneliness behind his angry stare.

She blinked to get rid of the tears she felt coming and forced her vocal chords to work normally and make her voice sound matter-of-fact.

"It's late. Shall I indulge in my helper's syndrome then and assist you on your way upstairs?" It came out more sniding than she had intended, but she did not mind. Severus swallowed very hard, he looked at if he wanted to say something, but then just scowled and moved towards the door. She helped him upstairs, left him on the landing in reach of his bedroom door.

"You know where everything is, I presume. I bought you a toothbrush. It's on the bathroom shelf. Call me if you need more help," she added, knowing perfectly well he wouldn't. Without looking back she went downstairs and busied herself in the kitchen.

Severus went about his nighttime routine very slowly and painfully. After he had finally limped from the bathroom back to the bedroom, he sank down on his bed exhaustedly.

He buried his face in the pillow, cursing his weakness and cursing his behaviour towards Claire. Damn his temper and his pride, had he just insulted the only friend he had in the world? She was a Muggle, still widely ignorant of the problems of the Wizarding world and of his roles in its society. Could it be that somehow she only saw the man Severus Snape, not the ugly bullied schoolboy, not the strict and sarcastic teacher, not the Death Eater, not the spy, not Dumbledore's killer? Had she been sincere in saying that she liked him? Something deep inside him, something buried under layers and layers of self-control and anti-social nastiness desperately hoped for it to be true. And he had turned her away… But he couldn't let this happen, he couldn't allow himself to lose control over his emotions, he couldn't let anybody get close to him, let alone a Muggle. He didn't depend on anyone's affection, he hadn't done so all his life, no reason to start now, when circumstances had become more difficult than ever before. And after all her concern was most probably just the result of the blasted blood transfusion, without it she would never have developed sympathies for him.

He turned over and stared into the darkness. Slowly he started to rebuild the stonewall around his heart, forcing emotion and love far away from himself.

_Thanks to JKR for the inspiring characters._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Lying very still he listened to the noises Claire made downstairs, then he heard her go to the bathroom and to her bedroom. The house became quiet. But Severus couldn't sleep. The painful after effects of the Cruciatus had not ceased completely and spasms caught his body at regular intervals. From fitful naps he woke soaked in sweat and shivering. Finally he'd had enough of the tossing and turning and got up. He put on the bathrobe and limped downstairs into the kitchen. The clock over the door showed five o'clock. Too early for breakfast, but he could do with a coffee. He opened the cupboards until he had found everything he needed and put the kettle on.

"Severus! What are you doing here?"

Claire was standing in the doorway, tousled and bleary-eyed.

He snorted. "Well, what does it look like?" She sat down at the small table tiredly.

"Sorry, I can see that you are making coffee. Can you make me a cup as well?"

Cursing himself for his words he ladled coffee into the cafetière and added the boiling water, then took another mug from the cupboard and carried everything to the table. When the coffee was ready, he poured it into the two mugs and handed her one. Claire cradled it in her hands and stared at the steaming black liquid.

"You couldn't sleep?" she asked. He shook his head, biting back a comment on her stating the obvious.

"Nor could I." After some minutes of silence he cleared his throat and started hesitantly, "Claire, I – I think I owe you an apology for last night."

She looked up.

"It's OK. Maybe you were right with the helper's syndrome. But I don't believe that there isn't anybody who likes you. Everybody has friends of some sort."

"I haven't", he stated flatly. And after a pause added hesitantly, "Do you – do you want to know?"

Claire was aware of how hard it was for him to make that offer. She nodded. He leant across the table and forced his eyes into hers. Once again she felt his presence in her mind, but this time it was inviting her to enter his. Images swirled past her, then slowed down. She found herself in a small terraced house; it was a sunny day, children were playing in the street, a thin black-haired boy was sitting in his bedroom, reading. The same boy, watching his parents argue, watching his father beat his mother, trying to protect her and being beaten himself. A large ancient building in spacious grounds, lots of teenagers in strange school uniforms - a public school by the look of it all - again the awkward, gangly black-haired boy, always alone, being bullied by three other teenagers, who called him Snivellus, being laughed at by other students, withdrawing himself from their ridicule into the library and a gloomy room that looked like an alchemist's laboratory. The same boy, a little older, falling hopelessly in love with a red-haired girl who ignored him and then was introduced to a dark and sinister society by older students, lured into their midst by the promise of power, receiving the tattoo on his arm from a dreadful-looking man. The Death Eaters and their Dark Lord. Then the images she knew already: Violence, murder, rape. The attack on a young family – Claire recognized the red-haired girl and one of the bullies – and then there was utter remorse and the wish to die. An old, venerable-looking man with long, white hair and an equally long beard, promising forgiveness and a second chance. But the injured soul couldn't heal. Same school, so this had to be Hogwarts, long years as a teacher, keeping the relationship with his colleagues on a purely professional basis and that with his students founded on fear and mutual loathing. Always preferring solitude to company. And then the necessity of going back to the Death Eaters in the role of a double-agent, the necessity of trusting nobody. And not being trusted by anybody. All this culminating in the killing of the white-haired man, the only one who had shown some kindness to Severus.

Claire felt herself being carefully pushed out of his mind and landed back in the reality of her kitchen. She looked at him.

"Do you believe me now?" His voice was hoarse. He was staring at his hands on the kitchen table. So much loneliness and misery.

"Severus," she said softly.

He didn't respond. She wanted to get up, put her arms around him and comfort him, but was sure he would not allow it, would shrink from her touch and become furious again. So she stayed on her chair, helplessly hoping that her presence would comfort him somehow.

When her eyes fell on the clock, she uttered a small cry of surprise: 7 o'clock!

"I must get ready for work," she said.

He looked up. His eyes were red, his face drawn.

"I'll make breakfast."

His voice was back to normal.

One hour later Claire was ready to leave. She was still rather pale, but otherwise there was nothing to tell of her bad night. Severus was still sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper.

"Severus," she said, "please don't do anything stupid today."

He grimaced.

"I'll be back at four-thirty. And in case you go outside and run across my neighbours: You are my cousin from Scotland, you are an artist and recovering from a mysterious tropical disease. That's what I told Linda Davis yesterday morning."

"What?" he exclaimed.

She shrugged. "It accounts for your appearance. Long hair means artist. And, sorry, you look like death personified. And please – be civil to the neighbours, especially to Mrs Davis," she waved a hand in the direction of the left wall, "I have to live next to them."

_Thanks to JKR for the inspiring characters._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Claire entered her house rather apprehensively in the evening, wondering if there were more surprises waiting for her. Severus wasn't there. She called his name, went from room to room.

Nothing. Damn, so he was gone! The stupid bastard really was gone. She opened the kitchen door and went into the garden. One last chance.

"Severus!"

Mrs Davis's head appeared over the hedge.

"Ah, Claire, there you are. Come over and join us for tea. Severus is already here. The poor man was so alone."

Claire's jaw dropped. No, this couldn't be true. Severus sitting with Linda Davis drinking tea! Absurd. She went to the hedge and looked over. There he was, sitting in a wicker chair on the perfectly clipped lawn. He smiled at her and saluted her with his teacup. Claire went back into the house and over to her neighbour's front door. Linda welcomed her with a torrent of words.

"He's such a charming man, your cousin. And so brave, fighting this terrible disease. He told me he was so glad he could come to you as he has no one else to help him. It's so good of you. He's such an interesting man, I've never met a composer before. I really must make a habit of going to concerts, it's so interesting. But he must be fed properly, Claire, he's so thin. I mean I don't want to criticize your cooking, but if you don't have the energy to prepare a meal after work, I'll be perfectly happy to help out. I told him to pop over whenever he likes."

They had reached the garden by now and Claire shot an angry look at Severus, who was sitting there, looking perfectly at ease. He acknowledged Claire's glare by raising an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, but otherwise his expression remained one of perfect innocence. Mechanically, Claire accepted the teacup that was offered to her and sat down. While she listened to Linda Davis's endless prattle about her love for music and her hidden talent as a violinist and made all the appropriate noises of approval on auto-pilot, her eyes bore into Severus', wanting to get an explanation. If he could read her thoughts, maybe communication was possible as well.

_"A man with no social skills, that's what you said." _

_"This woman is like a hurricane. I stood no chance to decline her invitation. And you ordered me to be civil. I can be quite accomplished an actor, dissimulation is a vital part of my life..." _

Claire was aware of a pause in the flow of words.

"Sorry, I didn't listen. I – eh – admired your daffodils and tulips. How do you make them flower like this," she said.

"I just wondered about the lack of family resemblance between you two," Linda remarked. "Oh, that. It's, well, it's…"

"It's because I was adopted by Claire's uncle. We are not related by blood," Severus helped her out.

Claire choked on her tea.

"Adopted. Oh, how romantic. Do you know about your real family?" Linda had got very excited. Severus shook his head sadly. "They told me I was found outside a hospital door."

"Poor dear. How very intriguing."

Claire, very red in the face, tried to regain her breath. Severus smiled at her.

"I was very happy with my foster parents."

Before Linda had a chance of starting a sermon on the advantages and disadvantages of adoption, Claire got up.

"Linda, I'm sorry, but Severus isn't very strong yet, he needs his rest. I think we should go home before he overexerts himself."

"Oh yes, by all means, take care of yourself, Severus. We can talk again tomorrow."

Claire spun round as soon as the front door was closed.

"How touching a performance, Severus. Your heart-rending drama will make this woman pursue us day in day out. Did you have to exaggerate that much? Couldn't you tell her in your best grumpy way to go to the devil before she got too enthusiastic?"

She kicked off her shoes violently. He shrugged.

"I went outside to sit in the sun on the patio when she spotted me. You had told her about me and she was curious. I only followed your advice. If you don't like the outcome, you can always throw me out, you know. I'm much better today, no more spasms, I really should be on my way."

Something in his voice alerted her, she looked at him sharply, but he averted his eyes.

"No", Claire sighed, "you shouldn't, you're still far from being well. I'll make us something to eat. As Linda said," she imitated her neighbour's voice, "you need feeding."

She went into the kitchen and after a few moments' hesitation he followed. She was cutting vegetables on the worktop. He watched her struggling with the onions.

"Let me do it."

He took the knife from her hand and Claire watched, fascinated, as he deftly and quickly cut the onions into much smaller pieces than she had done.

"Where have you learned that?" she asked non-plussed.

"Well, I'm a potion master. For brewing potions you must cut things, boil them, stir them – it's much like cooking. Anything else?"

Claire handed him tomatoes, courgettes and an aubergine.

"Can you make ratatouille?" she asked curiously. "It's a French dish, vegetable stew, very nourishing and healthy." Again she imitated her neighbour's tone of voice.

"I am able to follow a recipe," he replied dryly.

Claire showed him the cookbook and went about putting chicken legs into the oven, cutting French bread into pieces and laying the table.

They talked about potions during their meal; Severus clearly enjoyed giving her an insight into his subject and Claire enjoyed listening to him. She had a friend who specialized in herbal remedies, but this seemed to be much more complex.

"Round about the cauldron go; in the poisoned entrails throw," she recited, shaking her head.

"What?"

"Oh, it's Shakespeare. Macbeth. The witches are brewing some potion with lots of disgusting ingredients. It just came to my mind, when you described some of your concoctions."

He smiled.

"Disgusting ingredients is quite fitting, fortunately there are Latin names for most of them, so they sound much better."

Claire laughed and the conversation turned to her - mostly futile - attempts at teaching foreign languages to disinterested and untalented pupils. To her surprise she learned that Severus knew Latin, that he could speak French and Italian fluently and had a basic knowledge of German. He told her how much he thought young wizards disadvantaged, because foreign languages were not part of their syllabus.

It was a pleasant meal.

Together they cleared away the plates and did the washing up. Claire made some coffee.

"You know", she said thoughtfully, leaning at the kitchen cupboard and waiting for the coffee to cool, "we have only been together for a very short time, but I feel, well, at home with you, I'm comfortable in your presence. Your being here just feels right. Does that have anything to do with the blood we share?"

Silence.

"Maybe, I don't know", he finally answered, studying the pattern on his mug.

"I've never felt like this with a man before, certainly not with my husband. I don't know how to describe it, but maybe…"

She swallowed, not knowing how to go on. She could feel the heat rise in her face, her mouth became dry. Hastily she sipped some coffee and promptly burned her mouth.

Again there was silence, she could hear his breathing and the soft humming noise of the fridge.

"Maybe there's a word for it?"

He came over, standing close to her.

"Yes, we Muggles have one," she said nervously, conscious of his body next to her.

"So do we wizards."

They looked at each other. His eyes were fathomless, for a long time he remained motionless.

The presence of his body seemed to grow in intensity.. Then he bent down and kissed her lips softly. A shudder went through her. Severus put down his coffee and gently took the mug from her hand. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her again and again. Claire willingly responded to his lips and tongue, to his hands caressing her, to his body pressing against hers. Time and space ceased to exist, it was just the two of them, bound together in eternal love. She wanted him so much! "The word's love, isn't it?", she breathed between two kisses.

"Love", he answered, holding her very tight, his mouth in her hair.

"Claire," he whispered desperately, "this is madness, but I can't help it. I tried to fight it, but it's stronger than me. I've never felt like this before, not for anyone."

For an answer she lifted her face and found his lips once more.

Later they were in bed together. Claire was asleep, curled up on her side. Severus listened to her breathing. They had made love, indulging in caresses and kisses, their bodies responding to each other perfectly, reaching the climax as an inevitable reaction to their love. He had never experienced it like this. She was the first woman who wasn't paid for these services or forced to please him. And now he was afraid, terribly afraid. He should have been able to use more self-control, he should not have given in to his emotions, he should have fled from her presence as soon as he was capable of walking. They certainly had no future together. She was a Muggle, an innocent, unsuspecting woman, who had been drawn into this mess by a simple act of kindness. He was a wizard, far from innocent, deeply involved in Dark Magic, an outcast in the Wizarding world, he couldn't take her to live there, and he certainly would be useless in the Muggle world. He was a wanted man, hunted by both sides. What if the Aurors found him? How would she cope with him being sent to Azkaban. And worse – what if the Death Eaters found him, found out about her? The situation was hopeless. He turned violently, making her move in her sleep, snuggling closer to him. He put his arm around her, wanting to cry out loud with desperation. Why was fate so cruel?

A blackbird had started singing in the tree outside before he finally fell asleep.

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

During the following days they settled into a comfortable routine. They had breakfast together, Claire went to school and as Severus grew stronger, he did tasks around the house, thereby exploring Muggle technology like the washing machine and vacuum cleaner. He prepared dinner, proving his expertise in cooking, and they spent the evenings together, enjoying each other's company and love.

In the first week of the holidays the weather remained fine, so they made trips to the seaside, sitting on the beach or going on long, leisurely walks. And they made love, sweet, passionate, fulfilling, rapturous love. Severus tried not to think of his anxieties. For the first time in his life he was happy, he clung to the hope that he could remain so for a little bit longer.

Often he would look out of the window scanning the street for suspicious individuals loitering and watching the house; and when they went out he couldn't help looking over his shoulder from time to time, afraid that they were being shadowed. Once he thought he had recognized the familiar figure of a Death Eater, but when he looked again, there was no one there.

They couldn't avoid Linda Davis's invitation to a dinner-party on Saturday. There were two other couples present and Severus' charming side was on display again. He didn't do much of the talking, but proved an excellent listener, creating the impression that he was perfectly familiar with computers, cars, and cricket. From time to time their eyes met and Claire always felt a surge of passion run through her body. She wanted him, wanted him desperately, she hardly could wait till they would get home.

When they finally were alone in her bedroom, he carried her to the bed and started undressing her. Slowly he unbuttoned her blouse, kissing every inch of skin he had bared. She moaned and pressed her body to his, urging him to go faster, but he just smiled and got rid of his own clothes before he continued. His mouth played with her nipples, his hands caressed her belly, then went to her thighs and down on the outside of her legs. His mouth took over on the inside, his tongue slowly circling upwards until it reached the part of her body that was throbbing painfully, demanding relief. He let his tongue go on, making her moan again with lust and longing. At last, when she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, he entered her. He bent down, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a sitting position, holding her to his chest, his lips again finding hers. Their bodies began to move rhythmically in unison, then for Claire the world exploded in waves of lust and she cried out. Severus collapsed and lay panting next to her. She felt tears running down her face.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No," she could hardly speak, the tears choking her, "it's just – I never – Oh, Severus, I love you so!"

"So do I," he replied softly, kissing her tears away. He pulled the sheets up to cover their hot bodies and they lay in each other's arms, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of their heartbeats.

Severus woke with a start and found the room illuminated by the lights of several wands which were pointed at him. Behind the lights were black figures, cloaked, hooded and masked.

"There you are, traitor," a familiar voice sneered. "In bed with a Muggle slut, as the Dark Lord suspected."

Soft laughter came from the other Death Eaters.

"He wants to see you, Snape," the voice drawled on. "He wants to see you at once – and her, too."

He pointed his wand at the lump under the sheets that was Claire. She stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

When she focused on the dark figures she gasped and reached for Severus.

"I saw them," she whispered, "I saw them in my dream in your flat."

Severus put his arm around her, his voice was hoarse when he addressed the figures.

"I'll come with you. Leave her alone, she has nothing to do with the Dark Lord, she just was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Let her go, you can obliviate her, she won't remember anything."

He was pleading. But the Death Eater only laughed.

"So concerned, are we? The Dark Lord would be very disappointed if we didn't bring her to him, he's looking forward to meeting her – and," he chuckled, "we are looking forward to playing with her – oh, very much so."

"Lucius, please leave her!"

"I wouldn't dare to disobey our Lord, Severus, so shut up and GET DRESSED!"

The voice had lost all its pleasantry and had become cold and hard. Severus jumped up and wanted to throw himself at the speaker, but a beam of blue light hit him in the chest and he fell back. A flick of the wand brought their clothes to the bed.

"Get dressed!" the voice commanded again, this time sounding bored.

Severus turned to Claire.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Will you get dressed now, we haven't got all night."

The voice was getting angry again. With trembling fingers they put on their clothes. Claire felt strong arms grabbing her and then she had the horrible sensation of having every particle of her body squeezed to its smallest possible size and transported through the air. She felt nauseous and dizzy when they landed with a soft "plop".

She tried to focus on her surroundings. It looked like a large room, bare stonewalls and stone pillars with torches giving out a flickering light. Horrified she noticed more black clad figures, many more, they stood in a circle with Severus and her together with their captors in the middle. On one side of the circle there was a throne carved from stone with intricate snake-like ornaments. And on the throne a man was sitting, also robed in black, but without hood or mask. She remembered his skull-like face from Severus' memory: So this was the Dark Lord. She realized that she was shaking uncontrollably, if it wasn't for the two Death Eaters holding her arms, she probably would collapse. The Dark Lord rose and approached the spot where Severus stood, also flanked by two Death Eaters, who now forced him down on his knees.

"Ah, our spy. Or should I say traitor? Dressed like a Muggle – how disgusting!""

Claire wasn't sure what kind of voice she had expected from someone who was called the Dark Lord, but certainly not this thin high-pitched albeit cruel tones.

"Look at me, traitor!" he commanded, giving a short nod to one of the Death Eaters holding a struggling Severus down. The man grabbed Severus by the hair and jerked his head back. The Dark Lord pointed a wand at his throat. Murmurs could be heard from the circle of Death Eaters watching the scene.

"Wormtail has worked very hard to bring us evidence of your treacherous schemes. Crucio."

The word was uttered in a casual tone, but its effect was terrible to behold. Severus doubled over with pain and fell to the floor, his body contorting with agony. Loud screams filled the room, and it was only when one of her captors slapped her face that she realized the screams were coming from her. The Dark Lord looked in her direction, his mouth drawn into an ugly smirk.

"Ah yes, and you betrayed our cause by living with a Muggle. There are rumours that you received her blood in your veins, an utterly despicable device of Muggle medicine. My dear misguided servant, you understand that I must punish you for that, don't you? Crucio."

The spell lifted Severus several feet in the air, he was screaming and thrashing with his arms and legs, then it was withdrawn and he fell to the floor. Blood was running from his nose and from a gash on his temple. The Dark Lord placed a well-aimed kick at the shaking man and turned. To her horror Claire realized that he was coming towards her. Would he use this spell on her now? When he stopped in front of her, Claire had to fight the urge to avert her eyes. His face was even more horrible to behold at a short distance. His eyes were red and instead of a nose there were only two tiny slits above a mouth that didn't seem to have any lips. She felt the bile rise in her throat and swallowed hard.

He came even closer, extended his arm and Claire recoiled when she realized that he was going to touch her. But she didn't have a chance, there were four strong arms holding her in place. Skeletal fingers stroked her cheek, her neck, leaving a trace of icy coldness on her skin.

"Passable."

His cold high voice made her blood curdle.

"Who wants to be first?" he asked his followers.

"My Lord, may I begin?"

A woman's voice. No, that couldn't be true! The Dark Lord smiled and inclined his head. The dark figure that came forward, removed her mask and lowered her hood. Definitely a woman. Thick black hair and a mad, lusty glitter in her eyes. With a movement of her head she indicated the nearest pillar. Claire was pushed towards it and her hands were locked in manacles hanging from its capital. From the corner of her eyes Claire saw that Severus had struggled to a standing position, but a vicious Death Eater fist sent him sprawling on the floor again. The woman stood in front of her now. She pressed her body to Claire's and kissed her hard on the mouth, bruising her lips. Claire struggled helplessly. The woman chuckled and stepped back. She took out her wand, a lazy flick and Claire's clothes had vanished. A murmur among the onlookers showed that they appreciated this move.

Slowly the woman traced Claire's body with her wand – around her breasts and down to her abdomen, producing shallow, bleeding cuts. Claire cringed at the pain. Then the woman's fingers followed the bloody lines and caressed her body, painting it red with the blood.

Claire closed her eyes to hide her tears as she thought of Severus' fingers in the same places just a few hours ago. She felt her body respond against her will. Again there was the woman's mouth on hers, forcing her lips open, a greedy tongue in her mouth, while skilful fingers played a soft tattoo between her legs. Claire tried to fight the climax, being overwhelmed with shame, but the woman knew exactly what she was doing, her fingers were merciless, and finally Claire's body arched and a loud moan escaped her. The onlookers applauded and the woman stepped back, panting heavily. Claire kept her eyes shut. Suddenly the chains that held her arms were released and she fell to the ground.

She looked up. Another black-clad figure was towering before her.

"You didn't like Bellatrix's kisses?"

Claire recognized the drawling voice from her bedroom.

"Perhaps this will please you better."

He forced her to a kneeling position and nestled at his clothing, pulling out his stiff penis. He took her head between his hands and forced her to open her mouth, shoving his penis inside. She choked and fought against his hands.

"Behave yourself," he whispered softly, "or I'll break your neck."

Overcome with fear, humiliation and disgust Claire obeyed him. When he came, she couldn't help it any longer, she collapsed and vomited on the floor. He kicked her violently.

"Bitch", he hissed.

Claire curled up on the cold stones, trying to protect her body. Tears were running down her cheeks, sobs were shaking her body. This couldn't be true, surely she would wake from this nightmare soon.

Hands grabbed her arms, pulled her on her back and held her down. Another one was bending over her, fingering her breasts. Suddenly there was a commotion, she heard voices shout "Aurors," and felt herself released. The room was filled with flashes of light – red, green, blue, white, with running and shouting. Then someone touched her and she flinched. "Claire," a soft voice whispered. "Claire, it's me, Severus. The Aurors are here, don't be afraid. I have to go, they mustn't find me."

She turned her head to look at him. His face was swollen and covered with blood.

"Severus, don't leave me alone."

"Sorry, Claire, I have no choice. The Aurors will help you. Everything will be alright. Forget me, that's the best thing you can do."

"I love you."

A sad smile appeared on his lips and she could see tears glittering in his eyes. His lips brushed hers and then he was gone. She lay still, crying. The noises of the fighting died down. A black face hovered next to her.

"Here's a victim", a man shouted over his shoulders, "a woman, probably a Muggle."

Then he addressed her. "Madam, are you all right?"

The man lifted her gently and put a blanket around her.

"I'm Kingsley Shacklebolt, I'm an Auror. You won't like what we are doing now, but I have to get you out of here."

He put his arms around her and again she experienced the horrible feeling of compression she had had when the Death Eaters had taken them from her house.

They arrived in an office, at least that was what the room looked like to Claire. Two large wooden desks littered with papers and files. File cabinets lining two walls. In the corner there were a small table and two armchairs next to an enormous fireplace. The tall black man seated Claire in one of the armchairs, then he went to the fireplace, threw some sort of powder from a pot on the mantelpiece into the fire, which instantly turned green, and said, "Susan? Can you come to my office, we've got a Death Eater victim here."

Then he turned.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" he asked Claire.

She replied with a nod, still staring into the fireplace, then, remembering her manners, added a feeble "please". Shacklebolt was about to leave the room, when a tall blonde woman arrived. Claire noticed that both of them were dressed in blue floor-length gowns, obviously some kind of uniform. Then she remembered. Of course, Aurors, the wizard police! The woman crossed the room and sat down in the other armchair.

"Hello", she addressed Claire, "I'm Susan Bingley, I'd like to help you, let me see if you are badly injured."

Gently she pulled the blanket away from Claire's shoulders and muttered something under her breath when she saw the bloodstained skin. She took out her wand and passed it over Claire's body, murmuring strange incantations. The blood vanished and the cuts healed. Then she pointed the wand at Claire's bruised face and again the relief was instant.

"That's it", Susan said, "You were lucky that our lot arrived in time. I've seen women in much worse states."

She handed Claire a blue garment similar to her own.

"You can put this on."

"Could I have a wash somewhere?" Claire asked hesitantly.

"Yes, of course. There's a bathroom down the corridor, I'll show you. And when you have finished we'll have a few forms to fill in, I'm afraid."

Susan led Claire to the bathroom, which also contained a shower. Claire stepped inside and let the hot water run over her head for a long time, she rinsed her mouth over and over again; she wanted to clean away the traces of the rape. It was only when somebody knocked on the door and a male voice shouted, "are you all right?" that she turned the water off and dried herself. She put on the blue robe and wound a towel around her head. Then she went back to the office. Susan and the Auror called Shacklebolt were waiting for her. They handed her a mug of tea. Claire took a sip and grimaced, too much sugar to her taste. Skacklebolt reached for a piece of paper – no, it wasn't paper, it looked like some document from the Middle Ages, was it parchment? – and a quill, yes, definitely a quill.

"Can you tell us your name and address, please?" he asked Claire.

She complied and Shacklebolt's quill scratched over the parchment. Susan rose and went outside.

"And can you give us some information about how these Death Eaters got hold of you?" "Well", Claire hesitated, "they appeared in my bedroom in the middle of the night and kidnapped me."

Susan returned and she and Shackelbolt exchanged a look.

"Do you live alone?"

"Yes", Claire replied.

"Have you had any contact with wizards before?" was the next question.

"What? Wizards? What are you talking about? There are no wizards!"

Claire tried to sound upset. Skacklebolt looked at her hard and their eyes met. Somehow Claire knew what he was trying to do and used the trick Severus had told her – she emptied her mind and erected a barrier of "No!" for the intruder.

After agonizing five minutes he withdrew his gaze.

"Hmph," he muttered and, turning towards Susan, said in a low voice, "this is strange, it seems that she can do Occlumency."

"Impossible, she's a Muggle, I've checked it. She isn't injured, so there is nothing for us to do now. Let's give her new clothes and take her home. Then we can modify her memory and she won't remember anything."

"It's dangerous, they might come back for her. We must put wards on her house and keep watch."

Susan sighed. More work to do.

"Well, write a note and then things will be looked after."

Shacklebolt wrote something on the parchment. Susan left the room and returned with an armful of clothes: Jeans, sweatshirt, socks, underwear and shoes. Claire took them and put them on while Shacklebolt left the office. She pulled the towel from her head and shook out her hair.

"You can go home now, we'll give you a lift."

Susan took hold of Claire's arm and after another bout of this nasty feeling they landed in front of Claire's house. Another "plop" and Shacklebolt appeared there, too. Claire hoped her neighbours weren't looking out of their windows. It wasn't broad daylight, but it wasn't dark either. It looked like evening. So she had spent a whole day with the Aurors. Claire went up to the front door, but then she hesitated.

"I haven't got a key!"

The Aurors were standing behind her, their wands raised.

"Wizards were here", Susan said, "I can still feel their presence."

Claire fervently hoped that she couldn't feel the presence of a particular wizard.

"I haven't got a key, I can't get in," she repeated while doing some quick thinking. Were there traces of Severus in the house? The use of the spare bedroom and the toothbrush and razor in the bathroom could be attributed to her cousin's visit, they didn't indicate that a wizard had been there.

"That's no problem," her thoughts were interrupted by Susan, "if you permit…"

Susan pointed her wand to the lock and said, "Allohomora". The door sprang open. They went inside, the Aurors cautiously going from room to room with Claire trailing behind them.

"My cousin was here till yesterday morning, " she explained in – what she hoped – a matter- of- fact voice, "I didn't have time to tidy up his room."

"Your cousin?"

Shacklebolt looked at her curiously.

"Yes, my cousin from Scotland. He's a musician."

"Ah, an artist."

That seemed to end the topic. The Aurors didn't ask any further questions. They assured Claire that everything looked all right and that they would ward her house against the intrusion of unwanted guests. Then Shacklebolt turned his wand on her and muttered something under his breath. She felt a sense of peace come over her, something like a thick blanket entering her head and covering her brain. She didn't like it. No! she screamed inside her head and struggled to throw the blanket out. The Auror looked at her angrily.

"Shit," he whispered to his colleague, "I can't obliviate her, there is strong resistance."

Susan frowned and repeated Shacklebolt's motions. Again Claire fought the blanket off. Susan shook her head.

"It doesn't work, her mind resists us."

She shrugged wearily.

"Let her be. She will probably remember these experiences only as a nightmare tomorrow anyway. We will keep her under surveillance and see if anything strange happens."

Then they left. Claire sank into an armchair and closed her eyes. She was so incredibly tired.

And she longed for Severus. Would she ever see him again?

_This could be the end of the story._

_Or it could be just a cliff hanger – I haven't decided yet. Leliha_

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	10. Chapter 10

_Thank you very much for reading and reviewing, for praise and criticism. I've decided to plot on, although I probably won't be able to update frequently, because my creativity is required at my job. I hope, you'll enjoy it, though._

_Leliha_

**Chapter Ten**

The following twelve months were described as the worst time in British history since the Second World War.

Catastrophes and accidents happened one after the other without anyone being able to explain why. Trains and planes crashed, buildings exploded everywhere in the country, but most frequently in London. Experts examined the debris, but despite many learned theories about terrorist attacks and undetected earthquakes, nobody was any the wiser. There was a severe influenza epidemic early in the year which killed thousands of people and left behind a feeling of helplessness and despair. The latest incident was an explosion right in the City of London, which reduced a complete block of buildings and part of the Underground to rubble. The number of casualties was enormous. Messages from various notorious terror organizations, including the IRA and AL-Qaeda, turned up, stating they were responsible for it, but there was no proof of their reliability. Parliament passed a string of new anti-terrorist laws and finally politicians were forced to admit their helplessness by declaring an emergency. The TV stations outdid each other with the latest news and comments, skilfully camouflaging the fact that nobody knew anything.

Only one newspaper with a very limited edition could give reasons for the events: _The Daily_ _Prophet_, read exclusively by the Wizarding community, informed its readers about the growing influence of "You-know-who", who was destroying all his enemies on his way to power. His latest coup had been the invasion of the Ministry of Magic and of St. Mungo's hospital. Many wizards had already left Britain for the Continent. The last stronghold of resistance was Hogwarts School, where an attack was expected any time now.

The black figure crouching in the shadow of a large and ancient oak held his breath when he heard the crackling noises of thousands of people apparating on the edge of the forest around Hogwarts. He crept deeper into the shadow and kept perfectly still. The last year had taught him to blend in with nature, to vanish when he didn't want to be seen. It had also taught him to ignore the needs of his body, to become immune to pain, cold, hunger and thirst. So he didn't acknowledge the cramps in his legs and waited patiently for Voldemort's army to pass. He could sense the Dementors gliding past his hiding place, but they left him alone: There were almost no happy memories for them to find, the only ones he kept he had shoved to the remotest corner of his mind. When the last group had passed him, he left the darkness of the trees and followed them cautiously. This was going to be the last and decisive battle between good and evil and he was going to play a role in it.

Voldemort's army approached the school grounds and stopped. The Dark Lord raised his wand, and in a veil of golden mist the wards around Hogwarts became visible. One flick of his wand and it dissolved, leaving nothing but a few golden sparks in the dark sky. The army shouted with glee and entered the grounds. Nobody noticed the black figure that followed in its wake, gliding noiselessly from shadow to shadow.

When they were halfway up the lawn, the large front door opened and the defenders came out.

Aurors, teachers, students and their families – they were so few compared to Voldemort's masses. The two armies approached each other until they were only a few yards apart. Then they waited, everybody was still, the silence lasting forever.

An over-excited Death Eater finally broke it by casting a spell which missed its aim but started the battle. Suddenly everybody was shouting, spells and hexes were flying through the air, the night was illuminated by their various colours. The grounds were a boiling mass of fighters, there was no organized strategy of fighting on either side and suddenly unsuspecting, bewildered Death Eaters found themselves attacked by someone in their midst and fell without realizing what had happened.

The battle had been going on for some time, when all of a sudden Voldemort and Harry Potter met. The fighting around them stopped, members of both parties moved to form a circle.

"So the time has come at last." Voldemort's voice was high and cruel and full of glee.

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose and gripped his wand harder. Yes, the time had come, the moment he had worked for during the last year by discovering and destroying all the Horcruxes Voldemort had created to escape death was there. But Harry was exhausted.

He was shivering with cold despite the warm summer air. His hands were clammy. Voldemort came closer.

"You are not very talkative tonight," the high voice mocked. "Afraid to meet your destiny at last?"

Harry could see the red eyes glitter madly. The attack came a split second later.

"Crucio!"

But Harry was able to block the curse. The circled each other slowly, keeping eye contact all the time. Voldemort tried another Cruciatus-curse, but again Harry blocked it. "Septumsempra!" he shouted and his opponent staggered when bleeding cuts appeared all over his upper body.

"Expelliarmus" was Voldemort's retort and before he could react, Harry's wand flew out of his hand and the young man stood rooted to the spot, unable to react or to defend himself. The Dark Lord pointed his wand at his chest and started healing the wounds. Then he turned to Harry again.

"You are weak, you are no match for me," he sneered, "I'm going to finish what I started 18 years ago, I'm going to kill you now once and for all."

"Harry, do something!" A voice yelled from behind him, but Harry wasn't able to move. He felt completely drained, there was no strength left in him, let alone the energy he needed to retrieve his wand and cast the killing curse. He stared into Voldemort's eyes as if hypnotized. The Dark Lord raised his wand a bit higher, aiming at Harry's heart. The world stood still.

Slowly, relishing every syllable, the high, cruel voice uttered the incantation. "Avada…" when suddenly another voice, hoarse and harsh, came out of the night, shouting, "Potter, take your wand," as Harry's wand came flying towards him and he grasped it with his Quiddich-player instincts and saw a black figure appear and throw himself in front of Harry before the green beam of the curse could reach the boy. As the figure was hit and fell to the ground Harry felt an incredible rage surge through his mind and an almost gleeful need to cast the killing curse at Voldemort. There was an explosion of red and green light and the place where the Dark Lord had been standing was empty, Voldemort was no more.

The utter silence that followed stretched interminably. Then pandemonium broke lose. Voldemort's army, bereft of its leader, panicked and turned to flee, attacked by the defenders of Hogwarts who tried to kill or capture as many as possible. In the turmoil of the battle, Harry slowly came to his senses. In front of him a deep crater in the ground was all that was left to tell of Voldemort's presence. The grass was burned.

Harry's eyes fell on the bundle of black that was his saviour. Carefully he approached the figure and lowered himself next to him. The man was lying face down. Harry gently turned him over. There were deep bleeding wounds on the left hand side of his face, which was covered with blood and dirt, the features nearly un-recognizable, but Harry would have known the large nose and black hair anywhere.

"Snape!" he whispered.

The man he despised with all his heart had saved him from certain death. The man he had called a coward had thrown himself in the way of the killing curse. Harry was numb with confusion and oblivious of the fighting going on around him. All he could do was sit there on the grass with his hand on Snape's chest and stare at the mutilated face of his former teacher. Snape had died for him. Snape of all people! But wait – Harry suddenly became aware of a faint rhythmic movement under his palm. A heartbeat. Snape was alive! Harry woke with a start from his lethargy and looked around. The sky had become lighter – the first dawn after Voldemort. The fighting was still going on, but in a greater distance. He could see some people coming towards him, they were no Death Eaters by the look of their robes. He jumped up and waved his arms in the air. They came closer and he saw that it was Hermione, Ron and Remus Lupin. They all looked dishevelled, dirty and exhausted, but unharmed and happy.

"You've done it, mate. You destroyed You-know-who!" Ron did a little jig and clapped him on the shoulder. Hermione wanted to hug him, but stopped short when she saw his face.

"What's wrong, Harry? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

Harry pointed at the man on the ground.

"I have, in a way. That's Snape. He protected me from the killing curse."

"Snape?" the three of them exclaimed in disbelief.

"Is he dead?" Ron asked hopefully.

Harry shook his head. "No, I could feel his heartbeat."

Lupin got to his knees and bent over the unconscious man.

"Severus", he called, "can you hear me?"

There was no reaction. He pushed the hair aside and felt for the pulse.

"Harry's right. He's still alive, but only just. We must take him to the hospital wing."

He conjured a stretcher and levitated the bleeding body onto it. Together they went to the castle. Harry had to lean on Ron's shoulder for support, because after a few steps he had found his legs too weak to fully support him.

The castle was still comparatively quiet. People stopped and made way for Harry and his friends, some were cheering him, some looking curiously at the man on the stretcher.

When they reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomphrey did a quick examination of Harry and realizing that he wasn't hurt, made him sit on a bed and handed him a strengthening

potion. Then she looked at the man on the stretcher. She cried out in disbelief when she saw who it was and her face became very serious when she noticed the severity of his injuries.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He was hit by an Avada kedavra that was meant for me. He saved me", Harry answered wearily.

Madame Pomphrey frowned. "Nobody can survive this curse, nobody ever did, except…" "Except me", Harry finished.

"Yes, you had a special protection of your mother's love, but he", her eyes travelled over Snape's bloody form and she shook her head, "I wonder what protected him."

"Hate?" Ron suggested and shrugged, when the others looked at him disapprovingly.

"Now, get out of here, all of you, except Harry. I have to look after Professor Snape's wounds!" Madame Pomphrey commanded angrily.

Reluctantly they left. Harry watched her take off his former potions master's clothes, clean away the blood and try to heal the wounds. She muttered under her breath when she found out that the wounds wouldn't heal in the usual magical way. She had to apply an evil smelling green salve and wrap bandages around most of Snape's face and upper body. Then she levitated him into a bed and gently covered him with a sheet and a blanket.

More injured fighters were brought into the hospital wing during the following hours, ten more healers arrived to help Madame Pomphrey. Harry was sitting and contemplating the bandaged man in the next bed until he finally sank into a fitful sleep.

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven 

The following days were very busy for the survivors of the war. The ministry officials took residence at Hogwarts while the ministry was being rebuilt. Harry and his friends helped looking for files and objects that could be salvaged from the ruins of the ministry buildings.

Aurors were busy hunting down remaining Death Eaters. A delegation of them had arrived and taken with them the wounded ones from the hospital wing. They had been very reluctant to leave Snape behind, but Madame Pomphrey had been adamant: He was too ill to be transferred to a prison cell. In fact, his situation had not changed much. His wounds were healing slowly, but he remained unconscious; he showed no reaction whatsoever to the treatments and examinations he received. So the Aurors had to be content with confiscating his wand.

After three weeks there still was no improvement. Most of the other patients and healers having gone, Madam Pomphrey found time to sit at Snape's bed, talking to him, wanting him to wake up. But he remained unresponsive.

It was Remus Lupin who came up with a solution. He had done some research in very ancient, dusty tomes on the Dark Arts kept in a forgotten corner of the Hogwarts library.

"The _Avada kedavra_ put him in limbo, he can't decide if he wants to live or die. This situation is very rare, it may occur if somebody who has the protection of love intercepts the curse to save another person's life," he told Madam Pomphrey and Professor McGonagall, who came regularly to enquire about her former colleague.

"Provided he gets proper care, he can remain in this state indefinitely. If he is not fed anymore, he probably will die eventually. But the books are not very explicit about that.

Anyway, there is something that can be done to help him. The books say," he consulted his notes, anxious to get things right, "if the person whose life he saved …"

"That would be Harry Potter," Professor McGonnagal exclaimed.

"and the person who loves him…," Lupin continued sadly.

"Oh," Professor McGonnalgal was taken aback. "That is – that will prove difficult, almost impossible. As much as I regret saying it, but I don't think I have ever come across anybody who loves him. Although according to your books there must be someone somewhere."

Her face was full of sadness as she looked at the bandaged man and thought about his bleak future. Either he would be taken to St. Mungo's – as soon as it would be re-opened – and his body cared for until the healers would declare that there was no hope. Or he would be taken to Azkaban immediately – to die without care.

After another week of no improvement and daily owls from the ministry enquiring after the state of the 'last living Death Eater out of Azkaban' it was again Remus Lupin who made the desperate suggestion of using Legilimency to discover someone who loved Snape, a suggestion that was greeted with much enthusiasm by the other members of the Order. However, there remained the question of who would perform it. None of the witches and wizards present at Hogwarts was an accomplished Legilimens, and none of them was eager to enter Snape's mind. But time was running out.

"Harry could do it", Hermione said. "He had lessons with Professor Snape, perhaps it will be easier for him to establish a connection."

Harry was in London at the moment, getting ready for his training as an Auror. Hermione sent him an owl immediately. He arrived the next day in the company of Kingsley Shacklebolt, not very keen to fulfil the task and expressing doubts about his ability to enter Snape's mind.

"I wasn't very good when he taught me, and he wouldn't approve of my entering his mind, he doesn't like me, he most certainly will push me out. And he told me that eye-contact was an essential part of the process."

"He can't do much pushing at the moment," Lupin replied, "He's too weak. Anyway, there's no harm trying, even without eye-contact. Come on, don't be afraid, let's just do it."

So they went to the hospital wing. Snape was the only patient now. Madam Pomphrey had removed the bandages. His wounds were better, there was an ugly red lightning-shaped scar on his left cheek and the skin around his eyes still looked infected. Harry sat down on the bed and concentrated on the closed eyes of his former teacher. To his amazement he found himself inside Snape's mind almost immediately. There was no resistance, Harry was free to roam within the memories. Most of them sent shudders down his spine, but he found no love, just loneliness, despair, misery and self-loathing, a fact which didn't surprise the young man much. He was already about to give up, when suddenly he could feel a pleasant sensation, a kiss. Harry's mind concentrated hard on this direction, and after much insistent probing he could see a woman, small and dark-haired and he could hear a name, Claire. That was all, an overwhelming sense of love, but no further information, although Harry tried very hard. He withdrew from Snape's mind with a throbbing headache.

"There is a woman," he announced to the others, gratefully accepting a cup of tea from Madam Pomphrey. "She's called Claire and I think she's a Muggle and – and I think she loves him very much."

Professor McGonnagal sighed. "That's not very helpful, Mr Potter. Couldn't you find some more information about her?"

Harry shook his head. "I think he's trying to hide her."

"Then I'm afraid we can't help Severus."

Professor McGonnagal sadly touched Snape's hand and turned to leave.

"Wait!" That was Shacklebolt. "What does this Claire look like? Dark hair, grey eyes, small and slim?"

Harry nodded.

"I knew there was something fishy about that woman!"

Shacklebolt had jumped up and was pacing the room excitedly. The others looked at him curiously. "When we raided a Death Eater meeting last year we found a Muggle victim, a woman called Claire Saunders. They had started to rape her when we came. We interrogated her, I had the impression that she didn't tell us the whole truth and started to use Legilimency, but found that I couldn't enter her mind. She resisted me. We also couldn't obliviate her. Again she resisted. If she is Snape's Claire, he could have taught her Occlumency, it would make sense."

"Do you know where to find her?" Minerva McGonnagal had become excited, too. Shacklebolt laughed. "Oh yes, I do, because we put her house under surveillance all through the war, partly to protect her, but also because we hoped that we could discover something more, which we didn't. But I know her address and I know that she still lives there. She had a baby three months ago, by the way, father unknown."

McGonnagal and Lupin exchanged a look. Then they both turned their eyes on the still face of Severus Snape.

"Nobody knows where he has been and what he has done for the last two years. It is possible, you know, and we should at least try," the old witch said with a smile.

_Thanks to J.K. Rowling for the inspiring characters_


	12. Chapter 12

_Thanks to all reviewers. Some of you are ever so quick in responding to a new chapter. It's amazing and makes me continue with my writing.  
_

**Chapter Twelve**

It was evening, but the sun was still high and heat was radiating from the pavement and the houses when two people walked down the Muggle street towards the house in which Claire Saunders and her daughter lived. A young man in jeans and t-shirt and an elderly lady, who – despite the heat – was wearing a well-cut tweed suit and a matching hat. They stopped at Claire's front door and rang the bell. They could hear a baby cry inside the house and then the door opened and they found themselves opposite a very tired-looking woman wearing shorts and an oversized t-shirt, carrying a black-haired baby on her arm. She regarded them curiously, trying to calm the baby. "Mrs Claire Saunders?" Professor McGonnagal asked quietly. "Yes." "Do you know Severus Snape?" Claire stared at them wide-eyed with surprise for several minutes, oblivious of the baby's complaints, her face showing shock and disbelief. "No, I – he – he isn't here," she finally stammered in terror. "We know," the old witch replied kindly. "He is with us at the moment, he needs help." "He's with you? He's alive? But why – please, come in." Claire ushered them into the living room clustered with baby paraphernalia and slumped onto the sofa, suddenly in tears, confused and unable to do anything further. The two visitors remained standing, looking on helplessly.

"Oh dear!" Professor McGonnagal sighed after a few embarrassing minutes. She went over to Claire, carefully relieved her of the wailing baby and muttered some spells which calmed the child at once. Noticing Harry's baffled expression the old witch explained that she'd had enough nephews and nieces to diagnose and cure a colic if she saw one. With the baby peacefully asleep in her mother's lap, the witch conjured a pot of tea and three cups, sat down close to the sobbing woman and touched her arm gently. Claire's brushed the tears away, accepted the teacup with shaking hands and apologized for breaking down like this.

"I don't get much sleep nowadays. Susanna wakes me during nights and often there are dreams… And I haven't heard of him for over a year and I miss him so. I thought he was dead. Tell me about him, please."

Professor Mc Gonnagal told the story of the battle and of Snape's injuries with Claire drinking in the words; and Harry could see from her reactions that indeed she was deeply in love with his former teacher. Why? he asked himself, why could anybody love this ugly, evil-tempered man?

Two days later the members of the Wizarding community of Hogsmeade, who were out for their evening strolls in the warm summer air, met with an unusual event: A silver Muggle car was passing through the narrow streets, and those who risked a closer look, could see Harry Potter and a rather greenish looking Professor McGonagall inside, together with a woman in the driver seat. The car left the village in the direction of Hogwarts and when it reached the gates, Professor McGonnagal got out and started a lengthy and complicated series of wand movements, upon which the gates opened and the car was allowed into the grounds. The witch took a deep breath and directed the car towards Hagrid's cabin. She would not get in again if she could help it, the long trip from London to Hogwarts had been an absolute nightmare for her. But Claire, although ready and eager to come to Hogwarts, had resolutely refused to apparate or to use any other means of Wizarding transport. So after spending the night in Claire's house – Professor McGonnagal making sure that Claire got a good night's rest for once – they had set off in Claire's car.

Claire parked the car behind Hagrid's vegetable patch and was greeted suspiciously by the big man who muttered something like "too good for the bloody traitor" under his breath. They unloaded the car: Two bags and a baby. Then Minerva McGonnagal pointed her wand at the car and it vanished. Claire opened her mouth in protest, but the witch smiled reassuringly

and said, "It's still there, you just can't see it, because it blends in with its surroundings. We call it Disillusionment charm."

Disillusionment charm! Well – there certainly would be more surprises waiting for her in the magical world of Hogwarts, Claire thought, this was just the beginning.

She turned to see her bags float a yard above the ground, obediently following Professor McGonnagals's wand up the hill towards the castle.

Expectant eyes were directed towards the front door of Hogwarts. Members of the Order and Aurors were waiting in the entrance hall for the visitor Minerva McGonnagal had announced an hour ago. The first Muggle to be allowed access to Hogwarts. They all stiffened when finally the door swung open. Two bags floated into the hall and fell to the floor with a thud. Next there was a woman with a black-haired baby in her arm, followed by Harry Potter and Professor McGonnagal herself.

"This is Claire Saunders and her daughter Susanna," the old witch introduced her visitor. Claire smiled nervously and shook hands with each of the witches and wizards.

Apart from their clothes and their tendency to play with their wands they looked like normal people. Shacklebolt gave a wry smile of recognition and squinted at the baby.

"Is she Snape's child?" he asked blatantly.

Claire nodded.

"If only I had known," he muttered, not making it clear what exactly he would have liked to know. Susanna grew restless on Claire's arm and started to cry.

"I must feed her," Claire announced.

"Let me show you your room."

A young witch with unruly curls levitated the bags and turned towards the stairs. Claire started to follow her, but then hesitated and addressed Minerva McGonnagal.

"Can I see Severus?"

"Yes, of course. If you have finished with the baby, Miss Granger will show you to the hospital wing."

Her room was on the second floor, quite close to the hospital wing. Claire admired the four-poster bed and the huge fireplace. There was a cot for Susanna and several other items of baby care. There also was a tray with tea and sandwiches on the table. The young witch, Hermione, as she had asked Claire to call her, helped unpacking the bags, so that Claire could look after her daughter. Feeding and changing nappies didn't take very long and soon Susanna was peacefully asleep in her cot. Claire poured herself a cup pf tea and offered one to Hermione with an apologetic smile. "It may seem heartless, but I must eat and drink something before visiting Severus, I'm starving. The problem with breastfeeding is that it leaves you continually hungry." She took some bites from her sandwich and washed them down with the tea. When she had stilled her hunger she pushed away her plate and looked at the young witch with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. "Hermione - have you seen him?" she asked timidly. "Yes, I have." "How is he?" "His wounds are healing nicely, I think, and Madam Pomphrey cares for him and feeds him, so his body is much better…" "I'm so afraid," Claire whispered. "We all are afraid. We can only hope for the best," the young witch replied with an encouraging smile. Claire smiled back wryly and sighed. "I'm ready," she said and together they went to the hospital wing. There Claire was introduced to Madam Pomphrey, who then led her to the only occupied bed in the room.

Claire stopped at the bedside and looked down at the unconscious man. She had been prepared for the worst, but seeing Severus's face made her stomach tighten into a knot. Madam Pomphrey had bandaged the eyes again, but the thick red scar disfiguring his left cheek was clearly visible against the pallor of his skin. Lines of pain and misery were etched into the face even in its present relaxed state. Claire just stood there, oblivious of her surroundings, staring at this face that had occupied her dreams for a year. Finally she bent down and gently placed a kiss on its unblemished side. Then she sat down on the bed and took his limp hand into hers, holding and caressing it, kissing the long fingers with the broken nails, wondering if he could feel her presence. Tomorrow they would try to help him make his decision. What was he going to choose, life or death? Claire didn't know what she should wish for. They had told her he was still wanted for murder, so choosing life would perhaps mean more suffering for him. But she didn't want him to die, either. She had missed him so much. She wanted to feel his lips on hers again, wanted to hear his voice, feel his arms around her. He was the father of her child, she loved him, she needed him. They had only been together for two weeks, for God's sake! Her tears were falling on his arm, but she didn't care. She only looked up when she noticed a hand on her shoulder and saw Madam Pomphrey stand next to her, her face full of compassion.

"You should go to bed and get some sleep. You are not very strong yourself. Tomorrow will be hard work for you, you must be rested. Would you like some of this?"

The witch handed her a small glass with an orange liquid.

"What is it?" Claire asked.

"Dreamless sleep-potion. Severus made it."

Claire quickly drank the potion and grimaced at its bitter taste. Reluctantly she let go of Severus' hand and rose to leave.

Back in her room, after a brief look at her sleeping daughter, she went straight to bed, where the potion made her fall asleep immediately.

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	13. Chapter 13

_So here I have uploaded the next chapter already. I'm on sick leave at the moment, lost my voice due to a cold. That means more time for writing._

_Thank you for reading and reviewing._

**Chapter Thirteen**

Claire was looking at Harry Potter, who was on the opposite side of Severus' bed. Was he as nervous as she was? Due to the potion she had slept very well that night and had woken only to her daughter's insistent demands for food in the morning. No dreams, no nightmares for the first time in months. She was beginning to like the world of magic and the possibilities it offered. What a wonderful potion!

Breakfast in the great hall with all the other residents of Hogwarts had been rather subdued an affair with everybody being apprehensive about the outcome of the morning's endeavour.

And now they were here in the hospital wing, ready to help Severus come back to life or to die.

"Each of you must take one of his hands and then you must join hands as well," Madam Pomphrey read from the instructions she had received from Remus Lupin. They obeyed, sitting down on the bed. Claire was uncomfortably aware that her hands were cold and sweaty; Harry's hands were warm and soft, Severus' were, dry, rough, calloused and surprisingly warm. Madam Pomphrey took Susanna and watched them from her seat next to the nightstand.

Nothing happened. The patient remained as lifeless as before. The minutes passed. Claire and Harry remained silent, their eyes on Snape, willing him to respond. Nothing happened, there was only the steady rise and fall of his chest. Minutes stretched into hours.

"Why do you love him?"

Harry finally dared to ask this question. Claire started at his voice and considered for a moment.

"I don't know," she answered slowly, "it all started with the blood transfusion, then everything just happened, he seemed to be the right person for me."

"But he's awful, he's evil, sarcastic, cruel, unfair, he doesn't even look good."

Claire smiled sadly.

"These characteristics are part of the wall he built around himself to keep other people away. He's cruel, because life has been cruel to him, he has never been really accepted, I doubt if he has ever been happy. He played the role your world wanted to see him in. It determined a large part of his personality, I didn't know about the role, I was able to see the man behind the mask of sarcasm and bad temper, I think, a sensitive and caring man with a good sense of humour."

Harry looked doubtful.

"He was a Death Eater, he killed people."

"And has regretted it all his life. He paid for it with horrible nightmares, he paid for it with loneliness and self-loathing."

"He killed Dumbledore!"

Harry had become more and more agitated, raising his voice and causing Madam Pomphrey to get up and shake her head reprovingly.

They fell silent again, concentrating on their joined hands.

Suddenly Snape's breathing became quicker and louder. His body began to shake, his limbs twisted. His face was contorted as if in terrible pain. Claire and Harry had to grab his hands hard to keep up the connection. Claire cast a panicky, questioning look at the witch behind her.

"Is this all right, is he supposed to react like this?"

Madam Pomphrey shrugged helplessly. "I've never done this before, I don't know." There was also panic in her voice.

A film of sweat began to show on the patient's face, he made horrible gasping noises. Claire wanted to hug him, to comfort him, but she didn't dare let go of his hand and Harry's. Harry stared at his former teacher with a mixture of horror and pity. Then suddenly it stopped. Snape again was motionless in the bed.

Claire and Harry looked at him and then at each other. A horrible idea began to form in Claire's mind.

"Is he dead?" Harry spoke her thoughts. They looked at each other.

A hoarse croak made their heads snap back to the patient again. It definitely had come from Snape's mouth. He tried to clear his throat. His lips moved and they could see that he tried to swallow. And then, croaking, but full of malice, "No – no, Potter - just to spite you, I've chosen life." He pulled his hands out of their grasps.

Claire let out an exasperated sigh, a mixture of relief and anger, "Honestly, Severus!"

He swallowed painfully and coughed.

"Claire - you - stubborn woman, I told you - to forget me."

Claire looked at Harry and grimaced.

"It's not that we expected gratitude, but you could at least be civil. You know I love you, you silly wizard." She was crying with relief. He was alive, he was able to make sarcastic remarks!

Madame Pomphrey handed Susanna back to Claire, ordered them aside and started examining her patient.

He caught her arm. "Will you kindly remove the blindfold from my eyes."

The witch shrugged and complied. He blinked, raised his hand and tentatively touched his lids.

"I can't see," he whispered.

Madam Pomphrey looked anxious, but made her voice sound cheerful.

"What do you expect? You got in the way of an Avada kedavra and survived where other people would have died. You must allow some time for your body to heal. And you need those bandages, the skin is still infected."

Resignedly he let her renew them. Then she helped him into a sitting position and held a glass of water to his mouth. He grasped it and drank thirstily.

"And now you need some food," she announced.

"I can't eat if I can't see what I'm doing, and I certainly won't be fed like a baby, " he protested.

"Professor Snape, will you stop behaving like a baby and let me do my job?" Madam Pomphrey was angry.

"Talking about babies" Claire interfered, "it's time to meet your daughter Susanna, Severus." Carefully she put the baby on his lap, trying not to touch his injured side. Then she took his hand and guided it towards his daughter, making him feel the soft hair and warm body. Susanna seemed to like it, she made happy gurgling noises and grabbed her father's long fingers with her little plump ones. Severus shook his head, overcome with surprise and emotion.

"How – how did this happen?" was all he was finally able to say.

"Well," Claire winked at Harry, "I thought a grown-up man like you would know how these things happen."

He scowled at her under his bandages.

"Stop making fun of me. I mean – is she really my daughter?" His voice became an insistent whisper. "At that Death Eater meeting – I mean – did they…?" his face contorted with the painful memory.

"No, they didn't. The Aurors came first," Claire said quietly. "She definitely is your daughter.

"She's got your hair and your eyes, but I don't think she's got your nose. And" – Claire hesitated - "she's three months old and if you count back you may remember…"

His mouth twitched. "Oh, yes, I do."

Harry had watched the scene in silence, surprised about the fact that there seemed to be a human side of his former professor. Now he couldn't restrain himself any longer.

"Professor Snape, uh, what I'd like to know – why did you protect me?"

Severus turned his head in the direction of the voice.

"Why did I protect you?" his voice had lost all warmth. "Momentary loss of mind, I presume."

"I don't want any of your sarcasm. I want the truth. You hate me, you are a Death Eater, why did you prevent your master from killing me?" Harry shouted.

Snape leaned heavily back into the cushions and shook his head.

"I told you, loss of mind."

Harry stared at him furiously and stormed out of the room.

"Severus, this was uncalled for," Claire reprimanded him softly. Snape hoisted himself into a half-sitting position. His face was hard, his voice weary. "Yes, it was, I know. But I can't stop hating that boy. I hate him, because he is the very image of his father and is responsible for his mother's death."

"And yet you saved his life."

"He was the only means of destroying the Dark Lord. That's why."

Claire sighed and got up. Arguing with him now would be a waste of time and energy.

"Right then, let's get some food into you."

This time he didn't protest. She took a bowl of soup Madam Pomphrey had put on the bedside table and started feeding him. He managed only a few spoonfuls before he complained about nausea. So Claire left him to Madam Pomphrey and her potions, picked up Susanna, who had grown restless and was feeding her, when the door flew open and Shacklebolt and two other Aurors entered the hospital wing.

"Well, well, Snape, so it's true, you've chosen life. Whatever your plans for the future are, don't forget to include Azkaban. We're here to take you there immediately to await your trial," one of the two unknown Aurors said.

"No, you won't", Madam Pomphrey resolutely stood in front of them. "He's just come out of a coma, he's weak, his wounds have not healed properly, if you take him away now, there won't be a trial, because he'll die first. He will have to stay in medical care for at least another week"

The Aurors looked at the man in the bed suspiciously.

"We'll keep him under surveillance," the Auror finally gave in.

"Are you afraid of me? I haven't got a wand, I'm blind, I can't sit unaided, let alone stand and walk." Snape uttered a bitter laugh. "Why don't you chain me to the bed?"

"Not a bad idea," the Auror muttered.

"Leave him alone," Shacklebolt said, "we can take turns keeping watch."

They left. Snape sank back into the cushions wearily, his breathing fast and ragged.

"You are exhausted." Madam Pomphrey stated. "You must sleep."

Claire expected some angry protest, but there was none. The witch removed the cushions and helped him lie down.

"Claire?" he enquired weakly. Claire took his hand.

"Sorry for being such a bastard. I'm glad you're here. I love you."

She kissed him gently.

"I must change Susanna's nappy and put her to bed, too. We'll be back as soon as you are awake."

He squeezed her hand for an answer and his features relaxed.

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

They were standing on top of the Astronomy Tower. It was a brilliant day with a blue sky and a soft, pleasant breeze. Severus leaned heavily on the battlement wall, trying to regain his breath. Small beads of sweat had formed on his brow, his face was even paler than usual. Claire stood next to him, admiring the view: The grounds with the lake and the forest, the village of Hogsmeade in the distance and the hills that protected the area from the outside world. It looked peaceful. Fallen trees, brown patches in the grass and holes in the ground were the only signs of the recent battle.

Suddenly she saw that Severus was swaying. Quickly she put her arms around him and helped him sit on the floor, with his back to the wall.

"You are far from well. Why on Earth did you want to come here?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

It was the fourth day of his recovery, he had been able to leave the bed and walk around the hospital wing with the help of a walking stick the day before, and this morning he had demanded his clothes, which Madam Pomphrey somehow had retrieved from his belongings still stored at Hogwarts. To Claire he had suddenly looked very austere and intimidating in his formal black attire. And then he had announced his intention of going to the Astronomy Tower, which had sent Madam Pomphrey into a fit and the young Auror on guard into confusion.

He had followed them all the way to the door leading to the tower – it had been very slow progress with Snape leaning on a walking stick and being guided by Claire, who in turn had to follow his instructions to find the way. Severus had already been exhausted when they reached the door to the staircase. Nevertheless, he had straightened himself to his full height and his voice demanding to be left alone with Claire on top of the tower had allowed no contradiction.

"There is no chance of my escaping justice," he said with a sneer, "I'm not capable of flying and I certainly won't jump. So you can't lose me if you wait down here."

With that he had left the Auror standing with his mouth slightly open and had begun to climb the stairs, which nearly had proved too much for his condition.

So here they were. Claire watched him, hoping he wouldn't collapse. He had pulled up his legs and put his arms around them, as if wanting to protect himself.

"This is where it happened." he finally responded to her question.

"Where what happened?"

"The – where I killed Dumbledore."

It came out like a sob. Claire shifted her position to be closer to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"Why did you do it?"

"He asked for it." He rested his head on his knees, his shoulders were shaking. He was crying. She watched him helplessly, confused by his cryptic answer, hoping he would volunteer some more information, that he would confide in her. But he didn't.

She hesitated for a while before she dared ask another question which had been in her mind for the last four days. "Why did you come back to life?"

First there was no reaction. Had he not heard her? Then he raised his head and turned his face towards her. The bandages around his eyes were wet.

"Why did I come back? Do you really have to ask that?"

He got hold of her arm and held it in a fierce grip. His voice was hoarse and broken.

"I never expected to see you again after I had left you at the Death Eater meeting. I felt so guilty for what they had done to you. But all I could do was trying to forget you. It wasn't very difficult, because I needed all my wit just to stay alive and fulfil the only purpose left to me: I wanted to help destroy the Dark Lord and die in the process. The killing curse should have done the job, I don't know why I came out of the battle alive, I would gladly have chosen death, but then you were there in the hospital wing. And all the love and happiness I had found with you resurfaced. I couldn't resist the temptation to get some more. That's why I came back, Claire, to be with the only person that has ever loved me. Can't you understand that?"

He let her go and turned away. After some moments' hesitation Claire followed him and sat down before him, gently taking his face in her hands.

"I can and I love you so much. I'd like to help you."

"You can't help me, nobody can, because what's done cannot be undone."

Claire sighed, remembering the visits the other Hogwarts residents had paid him in the hospital wing during the last days. They had all been friendly, but also embarrassed about how to treat him. Despite his having brought about Voldemort's downfall, there was still the murder of Dumbledore unaccounted for.

"I love you, regardless of what has happened up here. I will always love you, whatever the future may have in store."

She kissed him and shivered slightly when his lips responded and with a low moan he put his arms around her. She felt her nipple tingle and a wet spot appeared on the front of her t-shirt.

Gently she wound out of his embrace. "Severus," she said softly, "we must go back, it's time for Susanna's next meal. I'm sorry."

"Yes," his voice was calm again, "let's go back."

He struggled to stand, turned his head from side to side as if looking around for the last time and then they began their way back, Severus leaning on Claire's shoulder. The Auror's face was a picture of relief when they appeared. Realizing how weak Snape was, he offered his shoulder for Snape's free arm and together they dragged and carried the tall man back to the hospital wing, where a very disapproving Madam Pomphrey put him to bed at once.

The news of his recovery had spread fast, because the next morning, when Claire had just entered the hospital wing with Susanna on her hip, Shacklebolt arrived.

He went to the bed, where Snape was eating his breakfast and handed him a roll of parchment.

"Severus Snape, as your condition has improved, you are hereby accused of being a Death Eater and a murderer and summoned to appear before the Wizengammot the day after tomorrow. You will be arrested and taken to the ministry tomorrow morning."

Snape let the letter fall to the floor.

"What use is this? You know perfectly well I can't read."

Shacklebolt mumbled something about following instructions, picked up the letter and put it on the nightstand.

"I've heard you. I'll be ready, you can go now, don't hover over me." Snape spat out.

The Auror shrugged and left.

Snape pushed the breakfast tray away and swung his legs out of the bed and felt for his cane. "I need to go to the bathroom," he said, his voice harsh with reluctance to accept help.

Claire took his free arm and guided him to the door. He was adamant on managing alone inside. Later, when he had dressed, he asked Madam Pomphrey for a self-writing quill and seated himself at a small table near the window. His manner made it clear to the two women that he did not want to be disturbed. Claire tried not to be hurt by his behaviour and took her daughter out for a walk in the sun.

It took Snape two hours of writing and erasing and re-writing until he was satisfied with the document. Then he called Madam Pomphrey and asked her to find Professor McGonnagal.

When the two witches returned, he showed them the document. Professor McGonnagal read it. Once. Twice. Finally she looked up, a strange expression of compassion in her eyes.

"Does she know about this?" Snape shook his head.

"No, I'm sure she wouldn't want it. But I have to make provisions, I'm responsible for her situation. Can you send it to the bank at once, please. I know the ministry froze my account after I – after Albus' death, but there is a second vault in my mother's name, where I keep most of my money and which the officials haven't found out about yet." He clenched his teeth and turned his face away.

Slowly Professor McGonnagal put the parchment on the table and signed it, handing the quill to Madam Pomphrey to do the same. Then she moved her wand over the parchment and it was bathed in a golden glow for a moment. Now the document saying that Severus Snape acknowledged Susanna Saunders as his daughter and that a certain sum of money from his secret vault at Gringot's should be reserved for her education was valid.

"There is something else," Snape had turned and addressed Professor McGonnagal again, "I don't feel comfortable about their living alone in that house in London. It may be dangerous. There are still some Death Eaters at large who may be out for revenge."

"According to my information the house is still watched by Aurors," the old witch answered.

Snape snorted. He didn't believe in the efficiency of anything connected to the Ministry.

An idea began to form in Professor McGonngal's head. She smiled reassuringly, then realized that he couldn't see it and touched his arm.

"I'll find a way of looking after them."

He took her hand. "Thank you."

McGonnagal left the hospital wing, thinking of the brilliant and ambitious, but also ugly, awkward, friendless student this man had been. Perhaps if the teachers had reacted differently, had looked for the reasons for his behaviour, tried to help him instead of giving him detentions for attempting to defend himself, his life and that of many other people would have turned out differently. She sighed. Now it was too late. Too late had he found someone who loved him, all those atrocities that had determined his life prevented him from finding peace and happiness. Too late.

Claire didn't return until after Susanna's afternoon nap. Severus had been waiting for her, pacing up and down the room restlessly.

"Where have you been?" he demanded roughly.

Claire rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Well, you practically threw me out. So I went for a walk, had a nice chat with Hagrid, who still thinks that you don't deserve me, by the way, and who adores Susanna. Then I had to look after our daughter."

"I'm a helpless invalid, you can't leave me alone."

"You are helpless? You are perfectly capable of ordering people around. It's about time you stopped throwing tantrums and behaved like the grown-up man you are!"

They had raised their voices and now stopped, breathless, glaring at each other, at least Claire was. After some minutes' silence he felt for a chair and sat down, burying his head in his hands.

"I'm sorry."

She went over to him and touched his shoulder.

"This is ridiculous. We shouldn't be arguing on a day like this. Why don't we go outside?" There was a small, secluded garden next to the hospital wing with a walnut tree and a bench underneath. He raised his head and nodded. They went outside into the sunshine and sat down, Severus holding Susanna in his lap. The very picture of a happy family, Claire thought bitterly. She could feel the tension of the man next to her.

"Are you afraid of the trial?" she asked.

"Yes."

"What do you expect?"

"Azkaban. They are certainly going to send me there, the only question is for how long."

"But you helped Harry. You saved him."

"I'm still known as a Death Eater and a murderer. I don't expect a mild sentence."

Claire shuddered at the hopelessness of his voice.

"What is Azkaban like?"

"I'm not sure, now that the Dementors are gone, it must be different…

"Dementors?"

"Creatures that drain you of everything happy and of all hope, they cause what you would call depression. But they sided with Voldemort and now it's just an ordinary prison, I suppose, but still not a pleasant place, and being locked away and forgotten is not a pleasant situation." His voice was cool and detached, but she could feel him tremble. She put her head on his shoulder.

"I will never forget you, Severus."

He sighed. "You'll never learn, Claire. Haven't you suffered enough because of me? You are not married to me, we are in no way legally bound. If there is another man…"

"Not legally, no, but what about emotionally? And don't forget the blood we share."

He shook his head.

"Don't waste your life because of me."

"I won't. There's Susanna."

A deep breath, almost a sob. "She deserves a better father. It would be best if she never knew about me."

"Oh, Severus…"

Claire stopped helplessly, she didn't know what to say. Instead she put a reassuring hand on his arm.

"This baby smells," Severus suddenly complained.

Claire laughed, she had heard the telltale noises some time ago.

"Her nappy is full, I must change it."

She took her daughter from him and wanted to rise, but he caught her arm and held her back. "I want – I want to spend the night with you, I mean, I can't, well, do much, but – I don't want to be alone."

"I don't want to be alone, either." She rose. "I'll talk to the Auror.."

The Auror didn't like it, but finally he gave in, allowing Snape to go to Claire's room after he had cast anti-escaping spells and sealed the fireplace against flooing. So they had the evening to themselves. They had dinner and settled their daughter for the night.

"This is what life could be like…," Severus said wistfully when his daughter was peacefully asleep in her cot.

Claire put her arms around him and held him very close. "Don't think about tomorrow," she whispered, "tonight we are here together and I love you."

Then they went to bed and lay in each other's arms, drawing comfort from the embrace until finally sleep came to them.

_Thanks to J.K. Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Three more Aurors arrived early the next day. They went to Professor McGonnagal's office and from there straight to the hospital wing, accompanied by the headmistress. When they learned about the new whereabouts of their prisoner, they were furious about their colleague's leniency. Five minutes later they pointed their wands at Claire's bedroom door and it flew open, startling Claire and Severus, who were having breakfast. Claire was feeding Susanna.

The baby started to cry and Claire got up angrily.

"You could at least have knocked," she shouted.

"All this sentimental extra pampering is going to stop now, we've come to take him where he belongs. Are you ready, Snape?" a tall Auror barked.

"Yes," Severus said and rose from his chair, his face white as a sheet.

"Search him!" the Auror commanded and two of the others roughly pushed Severus with his face to the wall, arms and legs outstretched. They searched him, but found nothing.

"His wand has been confiscated already?"

"Yes, it's at the ministry."

"Good. Turn him round."

The Aurors obeyed, making the blind man nearly lose his balance.

"Snape, hands!"

Severus held out his hands. The Auror touched them with his wand and at once handcuffs appeared and fastened themselves around his wrists. Two Aurors grabbed his upper arms. "Let's go!" the tall Auror said and turned.

"No, wait, let me say good-bye!"

Claire had run across the room and positioned herself between the door and the Aurors. Her voice was angry and her eyes were flashing.

"You can't take him away like this."

"Get out of the way, woman, this is a criminal who must be brought to justice."

"He's a human being with the right to be treated as such. He's the father of my child and I want to say good-bye."

"I also think your manner of arrest somewhat hasty and also rather brutal," Professor McGonnagal joined in. "As headmistress of this school I must insist on more polite a behaviour, even towards a prisoner."

The Auror looked as if he wanted to arrest the two women as well. But meanwhile other residents of Hogwarts had appeared at the door: Madam Pomphrey, Remus Lupin, Professor Sprout and Hermione were watching the scene and their expressions left no doubt whose side they were on. He shrugged and with a movement of his head ordered the Aurors to let go of Snape's arms. Claire went to Severus and put her free hand on his cheek.

"I love you. I'll never forget you," she said softly, resting her head on his chest. He bent down and kissed her head, then, when Claire raised her face to his, their lips met for a last kiss. They parted and Severus awkwardly felt for Susanna with his bound hands and gently patted her head.

"I love you, too," he said hoarsely, "both of you."

Then he straightened and held out his hands.

"Minerva?" Professor McGonnagal stepped forward and took his hands.

"Will you remember what we discussed?"

"Yes, Severus, of course I will."

The others came to say good-bye, one by one, while the Aurors grew more and more impatient.

"That's enough," the tall Auror interrupted Madam Pomphrey's detailed advice as to Snape's health.

"Let's go!"

They took hold of Snape's arms again and marched him from the room.

Claire stood motionless, ignoring the her daughter's cries of protest and stared at the doorway through which Severus had been taken.

"I must see the trial, I must know what they do to him," she whispered to herself, lost in thought. Professor McGonnagal gently touched her arm.

"We'll see what we can do," she replied.

_This was a short chapter, but the following ones will be longer. A happy ending? Well, if there is one, it will still be miles away._

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

The courtroom was crowded. Many members of the Wizarding society wanted to witness the trial of the traitor, of the man who had abused the kind and trusty nature of Britain's greatest wizard of the century. Many were interested in the reasons behind the deed, many more were out for a good show, knowing Snape's ability for dramatic scenes and his sharp and sarcastic tongue. All of them were glad that the man who had eluded capture for over two years would finally be brought to justice. The atmosphere was one of happy expectancy.

In the last row of benches Professor McGonnagal was sitting next to a woman who despite the heat in the room wore a cloak and a hood, which hid her face completely. The woman was sitting very still, rigid even, not talking to anybody, looking neither left nor right.

The babble of voices died down when the members of the wizengamot appeared and took their seats. The head of the Wizengamot, a venerable looking, grey-haired wizard, raised his hand and a door at the side of the room opened. Severus Snape was lead in, his hands still tied before him. He was holding himself very straight when they took him to the chair in the centre of the room. One of his guards pushed him into the chair and removed the handcuffs with a movement of his wand. He placed Snape's arms on the armrests of the chair and immediately the chains began to wrap themselves around his arms from wrists to shoulders. A low murmuring had started with the entrance of the prisoner, people were commenting on the ugly scar on his cheek and on the bandages which covered his eyes. The grey-haired wizard seized the large hand bell sitting on his desk and rang it vigorously. The noise died down.

"Severus Snape, you have been brought before the Wizengamot and charged with being known as a supporter of Voldemort and with the murder of Albus Dumbledore. How do you plead?"

"I can't deny that I killed him."

The voice was cool and detached, the answer caused a babble of comments from the spectators. Once more the bell conquered the noise.

"So that means "guilty", the judge said.

Severus shrugged as far as the chains permitted this movement.

"I call the first witness, Mr Harry Potter!"

The young man entered the witness box and told his version of the events on the Astronomy Tower. When he had finished, the judge thanked him for his precise recollections and dismissed him. Harry hesitated.

"Sir", he said, casting a sidelong glance at the immobilized form of his former teacher, "I also want to say that it was Professor Snape who saved me from being killed by Voldemort. He retrieved my wand after Voldemort's _Expelliarmus _and he took the full blow of the killing curse that left him scarred and without sight. Without him, I would be dead and Voldemort probably still in power."

It was obvious that speaking in favour of the accused had not been easy for Harry.

The members of the Wizengamot looked uncomfortable, the prisoner's face was unreadable.

"Thank you, Mr Potter, this fact will be taken into consideration."

There were boos and hisses from the crowd.

"He only wanted to protect his hide at the last moment. He's a traitor for both sides," a voice could be heard.

Once again the bell demanded silence.

The next witness was a young man called Draco Malfoy, who at the time of the murder had been an aspiring Death Eater and had enabled other followers of Voldemort to enter Hogwarts. He and his mother had returned to Britain after the war and gave themselves up to the authorities. Now, after a trial of their own, they had renounced their former beliefs and were allowed back into the Wizarding society on probation. Malfoy's story agreed with Harry's, but he added that Snape had always wanted to be the Dark Lord's favourite servant and therefore would have done anything to prevent his student from completing his mission and to fulfil the task himself instead.

"Severus Snape, do you want to add anything to these statements? Can you name any reasons for your deed?"

"I made a mistake," Snape said in his cool and detached voice. "I took an Unbreakable Vow with Narcissa Malfoy to protect her son and to take over his task if he should fail. It was a risk, because at that time I had no idea what the task would be, but the Vow helped to make Death Eaters like Bellatrix Lestrange trust me. When I realized where Draco's work would lead to, I talked to Albus Dumbledore and confessed what I had done. He was very sympathetic and made me promise…" the prisoner's voice broke.

The silence in the room was absolute, everybody held their breath, waiting for Snape to regain control.

"He reminded me of my obligations to himself, of the fact that he had given me a second chance once and that the promises I had made at that time were as binding as an Unbreakable Vow. When I tried to argue he took me into his pensieve and made me relive the whole scene."

Snape paused and cleared his throat.

" I had sworn to help and protect the aims of The Order Of the Phoenix under all circumstances, regardless of personal relationships or family ties. He reminded me that this vow included killing him, if it should become necessary for the survival of the good side. That night on the tower I could only keep my cover as a spy for the Order by casting the killing curse. Dumbledore was weak after the battle at the Ministry and especially so after the destruction of the Horcrux. That night he had already drunk a great amount of poison. He knew he was dying slowly and painfully and said he would be glad about a – shortcut."

"Are you telling us that Dumbledore asked you to kill him?"

"Yes, I am."

The room erupted in a concert of shouts, boos and hisses. The judge rang the bell.

"Do you really want us to believe that story?"

"It's the only one I have to tell," Snape said wearily.

"Is there anyone to confirm it?"

"No, as Dumbledore is dead…"

"But the pensieve – where is it? It should have been found."

Snape sighed. "The situation seemed so obvious at the time. Nobody bothered to ask questions. And then there was a war…" He shrugged.

"So there is only your word against what everybody else saw and heard that night?"

The grey-haired wizard looked at Snape with a doubtful frown, but received only a shrug for an answer.

"Very well, Mr Snape, the Wizengamot will now withdraw to reach a conclusion about the verdict."

They filed out of the room. Snape had to remain in his seat, two Aurors stationed themselves on both sides of the chair, not so much guarding him, but protecting him from any abuse from the spectators.

The woman in the back row fumbled under her cloak and soon soft sucking noises could have been heard, if anyone had bothered to listen. But people were too busy discussing what they had just witnessed to mind her.

It took the Wizengamot less than half an hour to agree. When they had gone back to their seats, the leader rose.

"Severus Snape, you are found guilty of the murder of Albus Dumbledore, for this you would receive a life sentence in Azkaban. But the fact that you helped with the downfall of Voldemort made us reduce the sentence to 20 years."

Amidst the cheers and boos the verdict was greeted with, the chains that bound Snape to the chair fell away. He rose and was handcuffed again. The two Aurors took his arms and led him from the room. Suddenly a cry rose above the noise of the crowd: "Severus!" A woman's voice. The room fell silent, everyone turned to find the origin of the cry. Snape stopped and turned. He was able to lift his hands in a gesture of farewell before the Aurors pushed him through the door.

Minerva McGonnagal and Claire waited for the crowd to leave the courtroom. Then the witch turned to her companion.

"I'd like to make a suggestion," she said softly, "a suggestion concerning your future life. Will you listen?"

Slowly Claire nodded.

_Thanks to J.K. Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	17. Chapter 17

3

**Chapter Seventeen**

A violent coughing fit ended in a sharp stab of pain in his chest. A broken rib. He shivered and tried to draw the threadbare blanket closer around his feverish body. Would this be the end of his life? Two years in Azkaban had robbed his body of all resistance against the illness.

Pneumonia. He recognized the symptoms, and he knew which potion could help if it was available. But they didn't waste valuable potions or medical care on prisoners like him. They didn't waste any care on prisoners like him. Severus Snape clutched his chest as another coughing fit seized him. Two years! He remembered them as an endless sequence of days full of misery and humiliation. He could recall every moment:

His arrival on the island on a dark, rainy day. They hurried to get out of the rain, but when he entered the fortress and heard the main gate of Azkaban close behind him, he realized that he wouldn't feel rain and wind again for a very long time. The trial had left him numb, but now despair overcame him. Now he really was a prisoner with rough voices barking commands, rough hands handling him. They made him hand in all his personal belongings and told him to undress. They gave him a shower and shaved his face and his head. Then they handed him his prison uniform of coarse cotton cloth and a pair of wooden clogs. He became a number – DE 2564. A blanket was pushed into his arms and he was told that he was to inhabit cell 026, was entitled to two meals a day and a shower and a clean set of clothes every four weeks. Then they took his arms and led him to his cell. He had to go down many stairs and could sense the air become colder and damper and his despair grew. When they finally stopped and he heard the harsh opening noises of a heavy wooden door, the mouldy smell from the cell behind made him lose his head and he panicked. He dropped the blanket, pushed away his guards and started to run. It was folly, of course, he couldn't see, he couldn't move fast in the clogs and stumbled and fell even before they were on him. They dragged him back to the cell and threw him in. He hit his head on something and passed out.

When he awoke with a terrible headache, he found his wrists and ankles bound with heavy shackles and despair returned and descended on him like a heavy blanket. He longed for death and remained lying on the cold stone floor until he heard the door open and footsteps enter the cell. A heavy boot kicked him in his side.

"Awake, Snape? Do you like your bracelets? This is what you get for attacking guards and attempting to escape."

Another kick.

"Here's food. Not that Death Eater scum like you deserve any."

The guard left. Severus realized that his mouth was parched. Perhaps food meant drink as well. Slowly he got on his hands and knees and started crawling around his cell, carefully feeling the floor in front of him until he found the metal tray with a jar of water and a bowl of something like gruel. He drank greedily and then continued exploring his cell. Suddenly something was holding him back and he realized that the fetters around his ankles were connected to another chain, which seemed to be fastened to a wall. He followed this chain and reached a bunk covered with a thin mattress. Further examination showed that they had placed the blanket on it. He followed the wall and found a bucket in the far corner. He went on as far as the chain would allow him, but there was nothing else in the cell. So he felt his way back to the bunk and sat down, head in his dirty hands, desperate tears running down his face. This was going to be his life for the next 20 years. This was what he had come to, he, Severus Snape, Half-Blood Prince, Hogwarts teacher, potions expert, master spy, double agent - chained to the wall in a damp underground cell like a dangerous wild animal?

Perhaps it was what he deserved. "Death Eater scum" he was after all. He had done terrible things. Anyway, happiness had never been meant for him, he had been destined for misery and loneliness since birth. He brushed the tears away. Well then, he was going to accept it.

And he withdrew into himself, not speaking to anybody, not responding to the guards' questions or insults, just dumbly following their commands. He learned that there was a sympathetic guard who put food right in front of the blind prisoner, often placing the bowl of soup into his hands, telling him to eat while it was hot, and a sadistic one who would "accidentally" spill the water or place the tray on the floor somewhere near the door, so that Severus would have to go down on his hands and knees to find it, which he often didn't bother to do. They "forgot" his monthly shower every so often and sometimes the bucket in the corner wasn't emptied for days. But all this drew no reaction whatsoever from the prisoner, who lived in isolation in a world of his own, allowing nobody to break through his misery, least of all Claire, who he sometimes felt approaching his mind. He didn't want her to know about his situation, he resolutely blocked any communication. He was alone again…

The only flicker of hope in these dark months was Snape's realization that his sight was returning, partially at least. He still couldn't see clearly, but he could discriminate between darkness and what little light the tiny window near the ceiling of the cell brought to him and he could recognize the blurred shapes of his guards when they came with their torches.

So two years had passed in this way and now his malnourished body was an easy prey for the illness. He drew the blanket closer. He was going to die. How often had he wished for death during those long forsaken months. But now as it was drawing near – the idea of never seeing real daylight again, of ending his life in this cell, dirty and stinking, alone and in chains had lost its attraction. What did they do with prisoners who had died? Throw them into the sea without any ceremony? Most likely. Would they inform anybody about his death? Perhaps the Daily Prophet would have two lines saying that Severus Snape, the notorious Death Eater and traitor had died in Azkaban. Nobody would mourn for him, on the contrary, people would be glad that he was gone. Would anybody inform Claire? Claire – suddenly there was a painful urge to see her again. He missed her, he longed for her. And Susanna, his daughter!

"No!" he let out an agonizing cry, before sinking back on the stinking mattress, coughing and crying bitterly. He didn't want to die like this!

The sympathetic guard found him with a high fever and barely conscious. He put his arm under Snape's head and held the water jar to his parched lips. Then he covered the shivering man with an extra blanket he had just taken from the cell whose occupant had died the previous night. It was against regulations, but nobody could have anything against a last gesture of mercy towards a dying man.

The guard left, certain that on his return in the morning another prisoner would be dead.

_Thanks to J.K. Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

The sun was low over the hills surrounding Hogwarts. Hagrid pulled the large toboggan up the gentle slope between the castle and his cabin, carrying Susanna on his shoulders. They had spent the whole afternoon in the snow, building a snowman in front of Hagrid's cabin and going down the slope on his toboggan, Susanna safely ensconced in the large man's arms. This was going to be the last ride. Claire watched them go up the hill, smiling sentimentally about Hagrid's affection for the little girl, who had developed a striking likeness to Severus with her black hair and eyes and her very white skin. Suddenly Claire was seized with a pang of misery. Severus. How she missed him! He wasn't allowed any visitors or letters. All her attempts to approach his mind had been futile. Obviously his defences were up, he didn't want to let her come close. How did he cope with imprisonment? Tears were coming to her eyes and rolling down her cheeks. Severus! Her mind reached out for him once again and this time she wasn't blocked by the usual impenetrable barrier. Instead she felt unbearable pain and misery. He was suffering! Her knowledge of the Wizarding world made her doubt that Azkaban was comparable to modern Muggle prison standards. Medieval dungeons and torture were more likely. She shuddered. What did they do to him? "Severus, hold on, I want you back!" her mind cried out.

Hagrid and her daughter were sliding towards her, laughing and shouting. Hastily Claire wiped away the tears and tried to smile. Hagrid, however, looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Thinking of him?" he asked softly.

Claire nodded.

"Can't understand what ye see in him. But he'll be alright, he's tough."

He picked up the sleigh and Susanna, and noticing Claire's doubtful frown, he added,

"the Dementors were the most horrid thing about Azkaban. They're gone, it can't be that bad anymore. He'll stay sane. Want to come in for a cup of tea?"

Claire shook her head.

"Thank you, Hagrid, but we have to go back. Susanna'll fall asleep on her feet if I don't put her to bed soon."

"It's getting dark. I'll better walk you to the castle."

He hoisted Susanna on his shoulders and they set off through the deep snow.

Inside the front door Claire was shaking the snow from her cloak and peeling Susanna out of her snowsuit, when an agitated second-year student came running down the stairs.

"Oh, Professor Saunders, I've been looking for you everywhere! Professor McGonnagal wants to speak to you."

"Thanks, Miss Williams, I'll see her at once."

Claire smiled to herself. She still had to get used to the title Professor. It certainly was an improvement in her career, from simple teacher at an inner-city comprehensive to professor at a famous Wizarding school. She enjoyed teaching at Hogwarts, more than she had thought it possible when Minerva offered her the job of teaching Muggle studies and languages. They had gone out of their way to help her: Her classroom, office and living quarters had been fitted with electricity for her own use and for teaching students about Muggle technology. They had changed the syllabus, so that students had to do at least one foreign language a year. Languages would even be part of the final exams as soon as they could find someone in the Ministry to do the examinations. She was accepted by the young witches and wizards, who liked her modern teaching methods and were keen on learning about computers and CD-players. She was also accepted by the other members of staff. They helped her wherever they could. She had the impression that they somehow wanted to make amends for Severus' fate, that they felt indebted to him.

Susanna had become the darling of the whole school, students and staff alike, house-elves were looking after her when Claire was teaching, house-elves – Claire loved them. No more cooking or housework to do – it was great.

She had told Linda Davis about a new job at a boarding school and had rented her house to four students. One of them actually was a wizard working for the Ministry and keeping an eye on the property and – Claire was sure about that – on its owner. She had retained a room where she could stay during visits to London.

Everything was perfect, or would have been, if Severus had been with her.

"Oatmeal biscuits," she said to the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the headmistress's office. She settled Susanna more comfortably on her hip while the revolving stairs transported her upwards. She knocked and entered. Minerva McGonnagal was sitting at her desk frowning at a piece of parchment in front of her. She rose quickly and took Claire's hand.

"Thank Merlin, they've managed to find you."

She seemed relieved.

"I was outside in the snow with Susanna and Hagrid."

"A letter arrived two hours ago. From Arthur Weasley. He must have written it in a great hurry, it 's rather confused."

The older witch obviously was far from her usual composed self.

"They have found something, some new evidence – they're going to re-open Severus' case. Tomorrow there's going to be another trial."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow at 10 o'clock"

"What does it mean, is it good or bad for him?"

Professor McGonnagal sighed. "I'm not sure, but as far as I understood Arthur's letter I deduce it must be positive."

Claire withdrew her hand and ran it through her hair nervously.

"I must go to London at once."

"At once?"

"It takes at least six hours, and certainly more in this weather."

"We could use side-along apparition, you know."

"No", Claire said vehemently, "never. I'll take the car."

The old witch frowned. She couldn't understand why Claire preferred these Muggle metal boxes on wheels to the much quicker and perfectly safe magical means of transport.

"You must get some sleep first. Or do you want to have an accident because you fall asleep on this motorway of yours? Setting off early in the morning should be enough. Leave Susanna at Hogwarts. She can stay with Poppy. I'm going to apparate and we'll meet in front of the Ministry."

Her tone allowed no contradiction and Claire went to get ready, her thoughts all in turmoil.

_Thanks to J.K. Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Driving wasn't easy. The roads were covered with snow and Claire could only go very slowly until she reached the motorway. By then snow had started to fall again and the bad visibility limited her to a very low speed. The snow changed into rain as she came south. She relaxed and accelerated only to meet the first traffic jam at six o'clock. A lorry had skidded on the slippery road and lost some of its cargo. The motorway was blocked for sixty minutes. When she reached the outskirts of London, commuter traffic had already started and she had to crawl along with hundreds of other cars. Then the crawl became a standstill. She tried the radio to get some information on what was going on, but couldn't find any. Built up traffic was common here,didn't make it into the news. Half-past nine. Her mobile phone rang.

"This is Harry Potter. We're waiting, where are you?"

"I'm stuck here," Claire almost sobbed, "I won't make it in time, don't wait any longer." "Right, I'll phone you again if there is news."

Claire put the phone back on the passenger seat, tears of frustration in her eyes.

In Azkaban the friendly guard took a deep breath before opening the door to cell 026. Encountering death wasn't easy, even if it was only a convicted Death Eater. He peered into the gloom. The figure on the bunk didn't move. Carefully the guard approached him, stood and watched. The prisoner was lying on his back, eyes closed. The guard bent down and could now see the minimal movement of the blanket - so he still lived. Amazing. The guard put down the breakfast tray and touched the forehead of the sleeping man. Cool, the fever was gone. He shook his head in wonder, this was a miracle. Gently he started shaking Severus's shoulder.

"Wake up, Snape, the warden wants to see you."

Reluctantly the prisoner open his eyes.

"The warden wants to see you, you must get up!"

Severus stared at the blurred shape of the guard and tried to understand the meaning of the words. So he was still alive. But he was so tired. His limbs weighed tons and his head was filled with cotton wool. In his confusion he forgot that he didn't speak to the guards.

"What?" he croaked.

"The warden wants to see you."

Severus tried to understand the words.

"What?"

"Are you deaf now as well?" Even the most sympathetic guard could become impatient. "THE WARDEN WANTS TO SEE YOU!" he shouted.

Severus analysed those words. What did they mean for him?

The guard sighed.

"Here – have something to eat. Can you sit up?"

The guard helped him into an upright position draping a blanket around his shoulders. Then he watched helplessly as violent coughing racked the thin body.

"This is porridge."

Severus felt a bowl being put into his hands.

"Or do you want to drink first?"

"Drink," he managed a hoarse croak again.

The guard handed him the jar and Severus drank slowly, enjoying the cool liquid in his parched throat. The guard reminded him of the porridge and he tried to eat, but could swallow only a few mouthfuls before his stomach revolted.

"Right, if you're finished, let's go."

The guard helped him find his clogs and stand up. The movement made Severus dizzy, he swayed and had to lean on the guard for support. Slowly they started to walk, Severus forced his tired legs to move, his chains clinking with every painful shuffling step. When they reached the warden's office at last, he panted as if he had run a marathon and was drenched in sweat.

He was leaning heavily on the wall, fighting the urge to let himself fall to the floor and sleep, while the warden knocked on the door and waited for an answer from within. Then he was pushed into the room.

"Prisoner DE 2564, Severus Snape," the guard announced.

Warmth surrounded him, after two years in a cold cell it made him sick, it made him drunk. Blackness enveloped him and he fell.

When he came round he was sitting in a chair, hands were slapping his face and calling his name. A glass of water was put to his lips and he attempted to drink while his body started to shake uncontrollably. He could see a large shape approach him; a deep voice spoke to him. "Severus Snape, I received a letter from the Ministry this morning. They have come across some new evidence, your case has been re-opened. You are to be taken to the Ministry at once. The trial begins at 10 o'clock."

In Severus' head the voice sounded from far away, he could barely understand the words and was unable to show any reaction.

The warden looked at the prisoner with an expression of shock and concern. How could he have deteriorated that much in only two years? He had seen the man on the day of his arrival. He had been thin and disfigured by his injuries then, but now he was skeletal, filthy and half-dead, barely able to walk on his own. This would throw a bad light on the way this prison was run, he would have liked to do something to improve the prisoner's condition, at least clean him a bit, but there was no time. 'Without delay' had been underlined in the letter. The prisoner had to be taken to the mainland by boat and there they had provided a portkey that would transport him directly to the courtroom. The warden shrugged.

"Take him away. And," with a final look at the shaking man, "find him a cloak."

Severus fell asleep in the boat and was only half-conscious when they dragged him out and tied his hand to the old car-tyre that had been transformed into a portkey. He felt the familiar tucking sensation in his stomach and soon found himself in the warmth again, this time it was the warmth of the cell next to the courtroom in the Ministry. Someone took the cloak away and he was led through the door. The moment Snape entered silence fell.

He knew there were people watching, he could see their blurred shapes, even smell their presence, but no sound of voices or of people moving accompanied his way to the chair. Slow shuffles, chains clinking, it cost all of his strength and concentration to walk upright between the two Aurors. He was determined not to show his weakness and faint, and was glad when he reached the chair in the centre of the room. The ominous chains didn't bind him this time, but there was no reason, he thought grimly, he was already shackled. A bell sounded and a voice announced the trial opened.

No one in the room listened. All eyes were pinned on the wretched figure that was addressed as Severus Snape, but bore no resemblance to the man most of them knew.

They saw a wreck of a man, an emaciated, dirty creature with a grey stubble on his head and face, dressed in a filthy, ragged prison uniform. They saw the heavy fetters, much too heavy for the stick-like wrists. Trickles of blood had appeared on his hands where the iron rings were cutting into the already infected flesh.

"…regret to say that this parcel was found among the estate of the late Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. Nobody knows why it was kept there and was not made available at your first trial. The Minister's daughter discovered it two days ago hidden away behind some books. It is a very strange business, but with the Minister dead, there will be little chance of solving this mystery. The parcel contains a letter from Albus Dumbledore to the Minister of Magic, a pensieve and several bottles filled with memories. Albus' memories. They have been tested extremely thoroughly and have been proved genuine und un-tempered with. Both the letter and the memories fully confirm the statement Mr Snape made about his role in the death of Albus Dumbledore at his trial. Did you know about the existence of such a letter, Mr Snape?"

Here Snape was seized with a coughing fit. "Can someone hand him a glass of water?" Someone did and the coughing subsided, leaving Snape even more exhausted. A soft humming sound had started in his head that diverted his concentration from the judge's voice. The question was repeated. Snape shook his head. He had always hoped against hope that the headmaster would find a way of informing the wizarding officials about his potion master's vows, but when nothing had turned up, had resignedly thought that somehow Albus had not managed to do it in time.

"We therefore had to revise your sentence. The Wizengamot met again this morning and has cleared you of all charges. You will be accepted as an honourable member into the Wizarding society again, you will receive the usual payment as a compensation for the time you spent in prison. On behalf of the Ministry I apologize for the irregularities that led to the disappearance of the parcel and for the inconveniences it caused you."

He pointed his wand at Snape and the chains fell away, showing the raw and bleeding marks on his wrists and ankles. Severus lifted his hands and stared at them. The humming in his head had increased, the light in the room became dim and then he heard no more.

"This document entitles you to the possession and use of your wand, you will need it for retrieving your wand from the department of wand-security;" the judge handed a piece of parchment with a large seal to one of the Aurors, "and this one is the renewal of your apparition license."

A second parchment was received by the Auror, who then crossed the room to give both of them to Snape. He cast a look at the man now slumped in the chair.

"Sir, he's unconscious, I think he needs a healer."

The judge exhaled deeply and shook his head sadly.

"Take him to St Mungo's", he commanded. "The trial is closed."

Harry Potter watched as the lifeless body of his former teacher was put on a stretcher and carried from the room. So the man he had hated and believed to be a coward had protected his life and those of many other wizards in England for years at extreme personal risk. And as a reward he had been incarcerated. Harry felt guilty for not having seen through the man's disguise of arrogance and sarcasm earlier; guilty for being regarded as a hero while the real hero had languished in a prison cell.

A hand on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts.

"Mr Potter, can you tell Professor Saunders about the outcome of the trial and that we are going to meet her at to St Mungo's?"

The shock about Snape's condition was still visible in Minerva McGonnagal's face.

Harry turned to go to the phone box he had used earlier in the day to contact Claire, leaving behind the other members of the Order who had found time to attend the trial. They looked as guilty as he felt.

_Thanks to J.K. Rowling for the inspiring characters._

_To Mark Darcy: Is this getting better? I don't like Wagner, neither the man himself (as far as I know him from biographies), nor his opinions, nor the texts and plots of his operas, especially those of Ring, nor his music, which simply is too bombastic and blatant. I prefer Handel or Mozart. _


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

The door opened and out came a healer in her lime-green robe.

"Are you Claire?" she addressed Professor McGonnagal. Her accent was German. A shortage of healers during the war had led to the employment of foreign specialists, who were attracted by the high salaries in Britain.

"No, I'm not. But Claire will be here soon. Why?"

"This Mr Snape is half-dead, but he absolutely refuses to take any potions, because they will make him sleep. He doesn't want to sleep before he has seen Claire. He's barely able to lift his head, but is stubborn as a mule. Who is this Claire? His wife?"

"In a way, yes."

The healer frowned.

"I hope she'll come soon, because he's coughing his lungs out."

With that she turned and went back to where she'd come from. Remus Lupin and Professor McGonnagal followed her. There were two beds, but only one was occupied.

They had washed him and shaved his face and he already looked a bit more like his former self, although the short grey hair made him look younger and less stern. His wrists were bandaged. He was lying on his back, eyes closed.

So frail and vulnerable, Minerva McGonnagal thought.

"How is he?" Lupin asked the healer.

"He's got pneumonia, but the crisis is over, he is undernourished and dehydrated. Rheumatism from the cold and the damp and shrunken muscles from lack of exercise. But with good care and patience he'll recover," the healer replied. "If he takes his potions," she added grimly.

"And his eyes?"

"Oh, yes, he needs glasses."

"Glasses? That's all?"

"Yes, he's short-sighted. He has to see a Muggle optician, they are much better than wizards with the production of lenses."

Violent coughing made them turn to the patient.

"Where's Claire?"

The voice was hoarse, the breath rasping. The healer rolled her eyes in exasperation. Minerva McGonnagal touched Severus's arm.

"She was stuck in a – what do Muggles call it? – traffic jam and couldn't make it to the trial in time. Mr Potter phoned her, she'll be here soon. Severus, don't worry, she isn't gone."

"Thank you," he closed his eyes again, "damn, I'm so weak and tired," he whispered angrily.

"You'll be better soon."

There was a knock at the door and in came Harry Potter and Claire, a very pale, tired-looking Claire. She stood still for a moment, taking in the scene and then went to the bed and looked down at its occupant. If she was shocked by his appearance, she didn't show it. She just watched him for a moment, and then gently touched his cheek.

"Severus?"

He opened his eyes.

"Claire!"

"About time," the healer muttered

He tried to sit up and Claire wrapped her arms around him.

"Oh, Severus!" Her tone was a mixture of joy and tears.

"Are you ready to take your potions now, Mr Snape?" the healer asked impatiently.

"Yes," Severus answered, and then turned to Claire, "will you stay?"

For an answer she hugged him again; then she sat on the bed, took his hand into hers and watched as the healer picked up the potion bottles from the bedside table and handed them to the patient one by one. Severus was ill, he was weak, he was in pain, but nothing could stop his potion master instincts. He studied each vial critically, sniffed at them, tasted their content carefully before finally swallowing the liquids. He drank the last one and shuddered. "Disgusting. At a place like St Mungo's one would expect potions of a superior quality. These are only mediocre, very badly brewed," he said and paid for the criticism with another coughing fit. He healer looked as if she wanted to throttle him. Instead she shook her head angrily and collected the empty vials. Severus sank back into the cushion, his breathing became calmer, his features relaxed and he was asleep.

"What's this?" Claire traced a bandaged wrist with her finger.

"Manacles." Lupin said.

The woman stared at him incredulously. So her fears about medieval prison conditions had been well-founded.

"What else has he got?"

"Pneumonia mainly, but his body will heal, Claire, it's his soul that we must care about." Claire nodded and caressed the thin hand.

"Stay with him," Minerva McGonnagal said, "don't worry about your lessons. I must return to Hogwarts, but I'll be back at the weekend."

She left. Harry Potter and Remus Lupin remained, but seemed embarrassed and eager to be gone as well.

"I'm so sorry about this," Harry finally said. "I didn't know, I really thought he had killed, he was a murderer, he…"

"It's OK, Harry, you couldn't have known. He'll be all right. Don't feel guilty."

Lupin's eyes still were on the sleeping man in the bed. "If you need help…"

"Not at the moment, thank you. You can go now, both of you. I can manage."

She smiled bravely and the two men left.

The healer felt Severus' pulse.

"He'll sleep for 24 hours, if you want to go home now, you can return later," she remarked, "you don't look very fit yourself."

Claire declined. "No, I would like to stay with him. I have everything I need with me. Can I use this bed?"

The healer wasn't very enthusiastic. Over-protective relatives and friends at the hospital weren't her idea of ideal healing conditions, but with regard to the patient's behaviour prior to the woman's arrival it was probably better if she stayed.

"Very well," she grunted, "stay."

She left and Claire remained sitting on the bed, tears in her eyes, tears of love and pity. He wouldn't want pity, but she couldn't hold it back and wept quietly for the horror of two years in prison and for the misery of a lifetime.

_Thanks to J.K Rowling for the inspiring characters._


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

The healing process was slow and the patient difficult. He slept a lot, but when he was awake he was either furious with frustration or depressed about his uncooperative body and it required all of Claire's patience to calm him down or to encourage him. He hated his helplessness, he hated the potions he had to take, he hated the hospital food, he hated the exercises he had to do, he hated the artificial cheerfulness of the healers and he hated the staring and whispering he had encountered during a short, but tiring walk around the ward with Claire.

"Like an animal in the zoo," he had scoffed and Claire had to use all her persuasiveness to make him continue these walks. For hours he would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, and all Claire could do was sit next to him, trying to make him understand how much she loved him, trying to convince herself that he still loved her. His bad temper and fits of anger were hard to bear and sometimes she could only keep herself from shouting at him by leaving the room and going for long and brisk walks. At these times the idea of taking Susanna from Hogwarts and running away from it all, going on a long holiday somewhere nice and warm seemed very alluring. She didn't have the energy to put up with the tantrums of convalescence! But then she told herself that after all he had been through he had every right to be grumpy and went back to his bedside. He usually was sorry then, apologized and promised to keep his moods under control. He never was able to keep his promise.

With the exception of some short visits to her house Claire was staying with Severus all the time. When he was in a better mood she read news from the _Daily Prophet_ to him. Two years at Hogwarts had taught her to concentrate on the print without being distracted by the moving pictures.

"There is still nothing about Dumbledore's pensieve or Scrimgeour's reasons for hiding it," Claire said, scanning the pages of the paper.

A very short note about Snape's rehabilitation had appeared two days after the trial on the last page but one and in very small print. Nothing else had been written about the mysterious actions of the former Minister of magic – either there had been no further investigations into the matter or they had not been made public.

"What did you expect? The whole affair is extremely embarrassing for the Ministry, they prefer not to announce it to the public," he answered with a harsh laugh.

"Well, it would have made things easier for you. Someone should write a letter to the editor and complain."

"No," he said vehemently, "it would take me back into the limelight. I don't want that, Claire, I want to be left in peace. Perhaps the truth will come out eventually." His face was sad and resigned.

Claire shrugged and continued reading. "There is a new Minister of Magic. His name is Anthony Cameron. Do you know him?"

"Anthony Cameron – there was a Tony Cameron at school with me. Could it be him?" "There's a picture: Fair hair, round face and glasses. And here's his age, he's 42."

Severus chuckled. "Yes, that must be him. He was in Ravenclaw. Well, it he hasn't changed completely since our school days they have elected a straightforward, stand-no-nonsense bureaucrat this time. Extremely honest, hard working and completely without imagination. Quite the opposite of his two predecessors. I didn't know he had gone into politics."

"Here it says that he is a newcomer, that they wanted someone with a blank record, someone from outside."

"Yeah, right. He'll learn soon, but that won't concern me much. I'm going to stay as far away from the Ministry as possible."

He yawned and closed his eyes. Soon he was asleep again.

When Minerva McGonnagal arrived on Saturday she was met with a foul mood. Severus had collapsed on his way to the bathroom and the fury about his weakness made him monosyllabic and bad-tempered.

"This is not easy for you," the old witch said when Claire saw her out of the ward. Claire just grimaced and said nothing. Once again she was close to tears. The old witch put her arm around Claire's shoulder in an uncharacteristic gesture of sympathy.

"We must allow him some time, I presume, tell me if you need help."

Claire tried to produce a brave smile.

It took nearly another week for Severus to become stronger. On Friday Claire went to her house and returned with some clothes for him. He put them on obediently, glad to get out of the hospital robes, eager to follow Claire wherever she intended to take him. However, when Claire returned to his room and saw him, her heart sank: The everyday Muggle clothes, jeans and a grey jumper, underlined the fact that he still looked far from healthy. They hung loosely on his emaciated form, stood in contrast to his pale skin, emphasized the fact that his body still lacked strength. And yet he tried to hold himself very erect, furiously determined not to give in to his weakness this time.

They made a trip to a nearby Muggle optician to get his glasses made. When they returned Severus was exhausted, but this time full of optimism, because he had learned that he really would be able to see properly.

Now they were sitting in the two visitors' chairs at the window drinking tea. While complaining about other kinds of food and drink continuously, tea was something that could always lighten Severus' mood. Today he seemed to enjoy it tremendously, sipping the fragrant liquid with slow and delighted mouthfuls.

"I never thought I would miss it so much," he said thoughtfully. The first time he mentioned something about his time in prison.

"It was awful, wasn't it?" Claire prompted carefully, half expecting an angry rebuke. Instead he went on with a mirthless laugh.

"It's supposed to be awful. The conditions are abominable, the cold, the dirt, the poor food. But what is worst is not the lack of comfort, it's the humiliation, that you are completely at their mercy, that you are not in control of your life."

His voice had been calm, but now he shuddered. Claire swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat. She didn't know what to say. Everything would sound like pity and he didn't want pity. They fell silent again until Severus cleared his throat and turned towards her.

"Claire, it's over, I'm free. For the first time in my adult life I'm under no obligations to anybody. The mark, look," he pulled up his sleeve and held out his forearm, " It is gone!"

Claire looked at his arm, ran a finger over the smooth skin. "Yes, it's gone."

She smiled at him, expecting an expression of joy or relief on his face. But what she saw was strain and anxiety. What was troubling him now, what was wrong? She forced herself to stay calm and wait for him to continue.

"I can try to lead a normal life now and," he hesitated, looking away from her and out the window, "I needn't be afraid of sharing it with somebody." His voice became hoarse and he cleared his throat again. "Claire, I don't know what the future will have in store for me, but – would you like to - stay with me – to marry me?"

Claire looked at him in disbelief. She could only see his profile, he had gone slightly pink and his jaws were clenched as he stared at the clouds in the sky. She could not help it; she burst into a fit of hysterical laughing.

He turned towards her, his face white again and expressionless.

"I can see you don't consider this a serious option. Then forget it. I can understand you." His eyes were as cold as his voice when he continued quietly, "I'm perfectly aware that I'm not much of a man anymore, I can barely walk for ten minutes without breaking down with exhaustion, I don't know if my body will ever heal again properly, many people still have doubts about my loyalty, I'm not well-off, I haven't got a job and as for my good looks – well…" he paused for breath and touched the scar on his cheek, letting out a bitter laugh.

"Severus?" Claire said carefully. Her heart was beating rapidly, but she tried to keep her voice calm. "Severus, stop that nonsense. Of course I want to marry you. I'm sorry for laughing, the proposal was just so unexpected."

There was silence, he turned and watched her intensely. "Can you say that again?"

"I want to marry you, Severus."

She went over to his chair. Slowly he got up and pulled her into his arms.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Severus, absolutely sure."

"You are informed that a wizard's marriage is for life?" he asked.

"Yes, that's good, so you can't tell me to leave ever again."

They remained in the embrace; Claire's arms hugged his thin body, holding him very fast. She could feel his hands on her back and in her hair, she could feel that this was the first time he was able to enjoy their moment of intimacy with all his heart, without being afraid of endangering her by his love. She would have liked this moment to last forever…

An angry cough made them pull apart. The healer.

"Time for your potions, Mr Snape."

_ Thanks to J.K. Rowling for the inspiring characters_


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Minerva McGonnagal arrived for her weekend visit the next day, accompanied by Madam Pomphrey and Susanna. The little girl was delighted to see her Mum again and to everybody's surprise accepted the presence of a strange man called Daddy quite easily. She wasn't shy or afraid, but climbed onto his knees and settled comfortably in his lap. She had brought her picture books and asked him to read to her. Severus looked helpless and Claire came to his rescue. "Daddy hasn't got his glasses yet, he can't read. You must tell him what you see in the book, darling," she advised her daughter and watched with a surge of happiness and pride, as Susanna pointed at the pictures with her plump little fingers and recited animals' names to her father, who listened closely, his head bent so that his cheek touched Susanna's and his face showing expressions of love, awe and wonder.

Later that day Claire went to her house to do the washing and to fetch some new clothes. She took Susanna with her and also Madam Pomphrey, who had offered her company and help. At least that was what she had said, the truth was that she had never been inside a Muggle house and was extremely curious to see what it would be like.

So Professor McGonnagal found herself alone with Severus and seized the opportunity to offer him his old job at Hogwarts, but her offer was not received with the enthusiasm she had hoped for.

"I don't think I was a good teacher," Severus answered slowly after a long period of staring at the pattern of the linoleum. "Students hated me; I know that Albus had to deal with complaints from parents about my teaching methods on a regular basis. And I must admit I didn't enjoy teaching very much, most of the students were so stupid, unable to follow even the most basic of instructions. It was hard work to keep them from doing serious damage out of sheer lack of concentration. And their essays," his voice was full of contempt now, "unstructured gibberish most of them, with bad grammar and full of spelling mistakes."

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"I was forced to stay at Hogwarts, I had to act the part of the teacher, because it was part of my agreement with the headmaster, it was part of my role as his spy, but if I had been free to choose, I would have resigned sooner rather than later."

Minerva McGonnagal winced at this confession. Fourteen lonely years in a job he had loathed – what a miserable life. And yet – now there was no need for loneliness and the strain of a double life any longer, now he could stop acting and try to really _be_ a teacher, now there were Claire and Susanna…

"Merlin's beard, Minerva, stop being so idealistic! What is good about _being_ a teacher?"

The old witch grimaced. She had forgotten how accomplished an Occlumens he was.

"You love potions, Severus…"

"Exactly, that's the problem," he interrupted her sarcastically.

"and there always are students who show some ability for one's subject. Surely their attitudes and achievements are rewarding for the teacher."

He rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently.

Minerva McGonnagal decided to ignore it and continued.

"With Horace Slughorn dead, we've never been able to find a competent potions teacher in these four years. The hospital wing has always been full of students who had accidents during their lessons, there were exploding cauldrons, wrong antidotes. Many failed their exams. Parents complained. It has been a nightmare. We need you, Severus and you need a job - I doubt that you have many options left," she added softly when he remained looking doubtful.

He snorted bitterly. "Yes, Minerva, you have a point there, I certainly haven't been inundated with job-offers. What I would like to do," he added wistfully, "is some quiet research far away from students and essays, but – well, as you pointed out correctly, I haven't got much of a choice, in fact, most people would think I should be beside myself with gratitude for you offering me the position."

He leaned back in the chair, resignation on his face.

"However, there remains the question whether students and their parents will accept someone who has just got out of prison."

"I'm sure they will. Nobody failed their OWLs in Potions when you were teaching. Your name has been cleared, the wizarding community knows about your role in Voldemort's downfall, knows that you have always been a loyal member of the Order - and you can't hide in a corner forever, Severus."

He sighed and avoided her eyes. "There's another problem. Hogwarts teachers traditionally are not married…"

"Oh, Severus, have you asked her?"

He shot her a look of surprise. "How do you know?"

She shrugged and smiled, "Female intuition. You two just seem to be made for each other."

Severus snorted. "Yes, I have and contrary to reason, in spite of everything she knows about my past, my character and my nightmares, she said yes. So I'm going to have a wife and a daughter, which means that my old rooms at Hogwarts will no longer be suitable, and having a family will interfere with my duties as a teacher, especially if you intend to make me head of Slytherin house again."

He looked at her expectantly. Surely this would put her off.

"Well, tradtions can be changed in modern times." The old witch smiled, there was a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. A twinkle which reminded him of Dumbledore, and suddenly he had the feeling that he was losing ground.

"We could find rooms that are suitable for a family. And as to your duties - we've had a single mother as a professor for the last two years and she was very successful."

"A single mother?" A witch whose husband had died during the war, was Severus' first thought. But no, impossible – married women and women with children wouldn't be teachers in the wizarding world.

"Yes, the house-elves looked after the child during lessons."

"A single mother? Who on earth…" He stopped, a suspicion finally forming in his mind. "Minerva, are you telling me that Claire teaches at Hogwarts?"

The twinkle became deeper. "Well, I thought it was the safest place for her to be. So I offered her the job. Muggle-studies and languages."

Severus stared at her in disbelief, then he started to laugh; it was a laugh, loud and free, he had not produced in years. He couldn't stop until it turned into a coughing fit; tears were running down his cheeks.

"Minerva," he finally gasped, very red in the face, "Minerva, you are unbelievable. This is so ingenious an idea, even Albus couldn't have come up with a better one. Absolutely brilliant."

"Does that mean you accept?"

He became serious again and took a deep breath.

"Yes, if you insist, if you think this is a good idea, I'll accept. For the fun of seeing Claire in robes I'll put up with the dunderheads again. But I warn you, I'm not going to change my teaching methods."

_Thanks to J.K. Rowling for the inspiring characters_


	23. Chapter 23

4

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

It was a quiet and very private marriage. Only the members of the Order and some of Claire's friends and neighbours were invited. During the ceremony the guests thought they'd never seen two people who were so much in love with each other and so eager to take the marriage vows…

The reception was in full blow in Claire's house. Four read-haired children – two pairs of twins belonging to Bill Weasley and his wife Fleur - , three fair-haired ones belonging to Claire's friends and raven-haired Susanna were running around the house and the garden, laughing and shouting, eating too much cake and drinking too many fizzy drinks and too much pumpkin juice. Of all the adults present the kids had chosen Molly Weasley to join in their play, so the witch was busy having an eye on them – and happy to be surrounded by so many little ones.

Linda Davis had cornered Kingsley Shacklebolt at the drinks table. "Artists! So many artists!" she exclaimed looking around the room with shining eyes.

"Artists?" Shacklebolt tried to look as if he knew what she was talking about.

"Yes, Severus' friends. You are all artists, aren't you, with your wonderful clothes. What do you do? Are you an actor? Or a writer? Or are you a musician like Severus?"

Shacklebolt scratched his chin. Severus – a musician! Hilarious. What was this woman up to? He felt Linda's expectant eyes and decided to play along. Thinking of the many reports he had to write he answered, "You could call me a writer, I suppose."

Linda's enthusiasm grew. "What do you write? Poems? Novels?"

"Uh, not poems, only prose."

Linda nodded and smiled encouragingly, she wanted to know more. Shacklebolt did some rapid thinking. Didn't Muggles have some kind of literature about crime…?

"Detective Stories," he said, searching the room for a way to escape the woman's clutch.

"Detective Stories! Oh, I like detective stories, I must have read hundreds of them. Have you ever read the stories by Ian Rankin? I love them! His inspector Rebus is such an interesting man…"

Shacklebolt closed his eyes, accepting his fate with resignation. At least Linda was asking only rhetorical questions now which required nothing but the occasional affirmative grunt on his part. He sipped his wine and pretended to listen, while trying to imagine Severus Snape as a musician.

Nymphadora Tonks had caught Claire's bouquet of flowers, which had made Remus Lupin blush a very deep shade of pink and announce that the next marriage would be theirs. Now they were sitting in a corner of the patio in a close embrace, oblivious of the world around them and looking very, very happy.

Arthus Weasly and Minerva McGonnagal were on the sofa in the living-room, deep in conversation.

"It didn't look like a happy ending when we first met Claire in this room," the witch remarked, thinking of the crying baby and the mother on the brink of a nervous breakdown. "She's an amazing woman," Arthur answered, "I've never seen Severus like this, so – well, normal and human."

"He deserves it."

"Oh yes, he certainly does. None of us knew what he had to go through as a spy. And honestly, none of us cared. It was his personality – he kept people from getting close, wasn't interested in making friends." He sighed sadly and they watched the other people in the room for a moment. Then Arthur Weasley leaned closer to the witch and continued in a very low voice.

"Now there's this strange business of Dumbledore's pensieve…" He shrugged apologetically. "I doubt if the truth will ever come out. There are rumours that Scrimgeour himself wanted Dumbledore's death, was involved with the Death Eaters and glad to have found a scapegoat like Severus, but no one knows for sure. Our new Minister obviously has decided to let bygones be bygones and not to stir up old problems. It will be forgotten."

Minerva Mc Gonnagal shrugged and smiled. "Severus most certainly will appreciate this, he doesn't want publicity. His name has been cleared officially, the circumstances are not so important. By the way, where is he?"

Severus had run into Harry Potter in the kitchen. They had not spoken since Snape's recovery and were looking at each other in an embarrassed way.

"Potter," Severus finally said with a hint of his former sneer at the pronunciation of the name, "I'm sorry for everything I said and did to you during your time at school."

Harry looked taken aback. "Well, Sir, it's me who has to apologize. You saved my life and if I had not misunderstood the events on the tower that night, you would not have been sent to Azkaban."

"Don't be stupid, Potter, you were meant to misunderstand. It was crucial for the success of this little drama."

He sighed.

"No, I should not have let the old grudge against your father get the better of me. After all, I was a grown-up man and a teacher and not a teenager anymore, I should not have enjoyed making you miserable. I won't pretend that I have grown to like you very much, saving your life just was part of my promise to Albus, but for my behaviour I'm sorry – Harry."

He held out his hand. Harry took it and grinned. "It's OK, Severus."

Claire burst into the kitchen, looking for some clean plates. She stopped and watched the two men. Suddenly the likeness between them struck her. The glasses and the lightning-shaped scars - both men bore the marks of having survived the Dark Lord's deadly curse.

She went over to her husband. "So you have made peace with each other?" she asked, smiling at them.

"Yes," Severus answered, sounding relieved, "and it was about time."

Husband and wife exchanged a look which made Harry feel very much in the way.

"Excuse me," he said quickly and left.

Severus wrapped his arms around his wife and started kissing her passionately.

"Severus, we have guests," Claire managed to admonish him between two kisses.

He shrugged. "I don't think they need us at the moment. Plenty of food and drink. Nobody is going to notice if we vanish for a couple of minutes…"

He kissed her again and this time she responded to his caresses, losing herself in his embrace…

The kitchen door burst open and a crying Susanna came running into the room, followed by the other children and clasping a dead gold-fish in her hand. The little girl threw herself into her mother's arms, sobbing violently.

"What happened, darling?" Claire tried to calm her daughter and to avoid contact with the dead fish at the same time.

"I didn't – want – it – to die!" came the answer.

"Sorry?"

"The fish!" Susanna held the corpus delicti right under Claire's nose.

"Oh!" Claire looked at Severus cluelessly.

"Susanna admired your neighbour's goldfish. She wanted to cuddle them and then one of them came flying out of the pond, right over the hedge into Susana's hand."

Molly Weasley – very much out of breath - had joined the children in the kitchen.

Claire shook her head in bewilderment and looked at Severus, only to find that he was staring at Susanna with a peculiar expression of utter delight on his face.

"Severus!" Claire wanted an explanation.

"She's a witch. She can make things happen with her raw magic," he whispered.

"A witch! Well, this is your area of expertise. Do something about it, she can't make all of Linda's goldfish fly over the hedge!" Claire held her daughter at arm's length. "Go to Daddy, love, he can sort this out."

Severus smiled at Claire. "Yes, come here, Susanna." He turned to Molly. "When did this happen?"

"Just a few minutes ago. They were in the garden…"

"Perhaps we're in time. Susanna, put the fish into the sink."

He filled the sink with water and pointed his wand at the fish. "Ennervate!" Everybody was watching. The animal came alive and started to swim. A collective sigh of relief greeted it.

Claire took a plastic jar from the cupboard and scooped the goldfish up. Then she handed the jar to one of the Weasley-kids. "Here, take it back before anyone notices."

The kids left, followed by Molly.

Claire looked at Severus. "Well?"

He lifted his daughter in his arms and kissed her. "If you feel angry or if you want something very much, tell me, Susanna, will you, before it gets too strong. We don't want any more accidents." The little girl nodded gravely and buried her face on her father's neck.

Claire watched them and suddenly was afraid of what she had got herself into. Wizards all around her!

She felt Severus' arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, she'll learn to control it. I'm so happy, Claire. She's a witch, she'll go to Hogwarts, I wonder which house she will be sorted in…" He stopped realizing that Claire did not share his enthusiasm.

"What it is?"

"Nothing really. It's just that I'm starting to develop an inferiority complex," she said with a wry smile.

He drew her close and kissed her. "Don't! You are the kindest, most patient, most competent and most beautiful Muggle I've ever met. Yes, Susanna, what is it?"

"Can I go and play with Adeline and Marc again?"

"Yes, dear, of course, but be careful with the fish."

Susanna ran out of the kitchen, leaving the door open. Severus went over and closed it softly, but firmly. Then he returned to his wife and put her arms around her waist. "Where were we? Oh, yes, the most beautiful Muggle. Claire, I love you, I adore you and if you take into consideration that we wizards nearly managed to destroy our world, the idea of having a sensible Muggle in the family is very reassuring."

He drew his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the door, securely locking it. Then he wrapped her in his arms once again and embarked on a long and passionate kiss, which made Claire forget her surroundings, the gurgling of the dishwasher and the laughter of the guests in the next room. She felt longing stir inside herself. There was his warm body under the layers of stiff black cloth. He was still very thin, but had regained most of his former strength and the natural grace of his movements. There were his eyes, black and unfathomable, but also full of tenderness and love. She was happy, so infinitely happy. "Severus, I love you," Claire whispered. "I love you, Claire, my wife," he answered and with a shuddering breath drew her even closer …

Someone tried the door handle. Then knocked. Tried the handle again. And knocked and wouldn't stop.

"Claire, Severus, are you in there?" Linda Davis.

"Damn that woman," Severus muttered and released his wife from his embrace.

Claire kissed him on the cheek. "Let's wait till tonight, when all the guests are gone and Susanna's asleep…"

He sighed and raised his hands in a gesture of defeat.

"We have all the time in the world, dear husband, from now on there will be many nights."

Claire smiled and he smiled back reluctantly.

"You used magic on that door, Severus, so you must unlock it."

He raised a finger to her face and traced her mouth and cheeks, all the promises in the world included in this gesture.

"Tonight then," he whispered.

With a sigh he drew his wand and unlocked the door…

_The End_

_(I think, I'm not quite sure. I have an idea for an epilogue, but I don't know if I'm going to write it.)_

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters_


	24. Chapter 24

Epilogue 

The flat was full of people. People eating and drinking, talking and laughing, people listening to the music. Some were already leaving and on their way to the door accompagnied by their hostess when the bell rang once again.

"Happy birthday, Susanna," the tall man cried and hugged his sister affectionately. His wife was next and pecked her sister-in-law on the cheek while their two teenage sons smiled at their aunt and kept their distance, they certainly didn't want to be hugged. "Happy birthday!" they shouted in unison and handed Susanna a large parcel gift-wrapped in green and silver paper. Susanna led the way into the living-room. She had decided to celebrate her 50th birthday with a large drinks party for her friends and a family dinner afterwards.

"Where's Dad," her brother asked, scanning the room for the tall,white-haired figure of his father.

"In his room, I suppose. He doesn't like parties very much, but he promised to come out for dinner. Help yourself to a drink, I'm going to tell him you're here."

She went to the door at the end of the hall and knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again and opened he door cautiously. Still there was no response, perhaps he was asleep. The room was dark. She entered noiselessly and saw her father stand at the large window. The outside world had darkened to various shades of grey and blue, with the occasional twinkling of the city lights coming to life. The view was breathtaking and one of the reasons Susanna had bought this flat, but her father's back looked as if he was lost in thought rather than admiring London at nightfall. He hadn't noticed his daughter.

"Dad?" Susanna approached him. "Albus is here. Don't you want to come and join us?"

He turned his head and looked at her. She gasped. His face seemed to have aged during the last two hours, it was deathly pale in the twilight of the room and in his eyes there was a weariness that had not been there before.

"What's the matter?" she asked, her voice full of concern, stepping closer to him and putting her hand on his arm. "Are you alright, Dad?"

"Have you seen the papers?" he asked hoarsely. Susanna shook her head. With all the preparations for her party there had been no time for reading newspapers.

"Look at this!"

He limped over to his desk, where the Daily Prophet, the Times and the Guardian were spread. His shaking hand pointed to two articles in the Muggle papers that told about a series of vicious assaults on people walking their dogs in deserted country lanes. Two victims who had survived the attacks by sheer luck had told the police about cloaked and masked men, who first had brutally killed the dogs in front of their owners' eyes and then had started attacking the men with fists and knives and some mysterious weapons resembling wooden sticks..

Susanna felt the bile rise in her throat and swallowed hard. When she folded the paper her hands were shaking, too.

"This is horrible, do you think…?" she stopped, unable to pronounce what was in her mind.

Her father was leaning on the desk now, his shoulders hunched. Slowly he raised his eyes and shrugged resignedly.

"I don't know, but it sounds so familiar," he said gravely. "And look at the leading article in the Daily Prophet. Everything fits so well."

He let out a shuddering breath.

"Oh, Susanna, I cannot believe it, I will not believe it! After all we have been through!"

He sank on his chair and put his head in his hands. His daughter picked up the Daily Prophet and scanned the article. "Are we becoming a society of Half-bloods?" "Mudbloods gaining control!" "Too much leniency towards mixed marriages." The sentences were screaming in her face. She looked up and met her father's desperate eyes.

"This is just one article, it doesn't represent the general opinion," she said, but even to her ears she didn't sound very convincing and from his expression she could see that he thought so, too.

She sighed.

"Anyway, I have to say good-bye to my friends," she said, "dinner will be ready in about half an hour. Do come and join us, will you?"

She smiled at him, but did not receive an answer.

"Dad? Please come and have dinner with us," she pleaded. Their eyes met and he nodded and tried to smile back, a weak little excuse of a smile.

"How is he?" her brother Albus asked when she reappeared in the living-room.

She shrugged. "He's very old and he has never got over Mum's death."

They were interrupted by a group of laughing people who came to say good-bye with many hugs and air-kisses.

"Yes, he and Mum, it was something special," her brother continued when she returned to him and looked thoughtfully over at his own wife, a plump woman with brown curly hair. Susanna bit back a sarcastic remark. There was not much sympathy between her sister-in-law and herself, they had nothing in common. Nelly certainly was a good woman and adored her husband and her sons, but she was only interested in household duties, cooking, decorating and clothes. Susanna had experienced her parents' marriage as perfect, so perfect that taking it as an example she had never been able to find a suitable husband and had perferred to stay single. She had made a successful carreer as a healer and was now working at the Ministry as head of the department supervising St. Mungo's and other wizarding healing institutions. She had bought the spacious flat in the Docklands and when her mother had died six months ago and Severus had been disconsolate and so overwhelmed with grief that he had not been able to cope with the necessities of daily life, she had offered her father to move in with her. Their relationship had always been a special one, neverthless it had taken some time to convince him of giving up his independence; but now he was living with his daughter, surrounded by his books. She made sure he had regular meals and took care of himself while he divided his days between his wife's grave and his reading and studying, careful not to intrude on his daughter's privacy and to stay out of the way when she entertained friends at her flat.

"He has just come across articles telling about brutal attacks on Muggles and read the Daily Prophet's editorial on the superiority of purebloods. Naturally he's shocked. What do you think, must we take this seriously, is there a second Voldemort behind these ideas?"

Her brother snorted contemptiously.

"I've heard rumours, but I didn't pay much attention to them. I mean, it's just, what? less than 50 years since the destruction of Voldemort, one should think that people wouldn't fall for this nonsense again."

Susanne frowned doubtfully.

"People never learn…Well, anyway, I must get dinner ready."

When all the other guests had gone and the family was assembled around the dinner table at last, the atmosphere remained subdued. Only Nelly apparently had not noticed that something was wrong and did her best to keep a conversation going. Susanna and Albus were monosyllabic and kept casting surreptitious glances at their father, who remained silent, pushing the food around on his plate. And as for the two boys - they were not very keen on familiy dinners anyway, as much as they liked their aunt, they would have preferred spending the evening with their friends.

Suddenly in the middle of the main course Severus put down his knife and fork, ending his pretence of eating. He addressed his grandsons.

"You both are in Slytherin, aren't you?"

The boys stared at him open-mouthed. Why did he ask, he certainly knew that they had been sorted into his house! They exchanged a quick apprehensive look – they liked their grandfather, but they also were afraid of his fierce temper and sarcastic tongue - and then nodded obediently.

"Tell me," he was leaning across the table and fixing his intense black eyes on the boys' faces, "have there been stories about the superiority of pureblood wizards recently?"

Albus and Susanna stopped talking and eating and listened apprehensively. Nelly, who had no clue of what was going on, was looking from Severus to the boys and back again, her face a picture of utter incomprehension.

The boys exchanged an uncomfortable look.

"Well,…" the eldest started hestitantly.

"Tell the truth, boy!" Severus cried.

"Yes, it - it has been said that there are too many mudbloods at Hogwarts and – and that purebloods are outnumbered and disadvantaged," his grandson replied, speaking very fast and in a voice barely audible.

"Who said so?"

"I don't know – everybody. It's – it's the general opinion in Slytherin."

"Do you think so, too?"

The boys fidgeted in their chairs and exchanged another look.

"Honestly, Severus, why are you asking them things like that in such a way? You are no longer a teacher. Besides, everybody knows that purebloods are superior. So stop intimidating the boys," Nelly said angrily, her face an unbecoming shade of crimson as she turned from staring angrily at her father-in-law to looking at her sons with an expression of motherly concern.

"Julian, Harry, are you alright?"

Severus gave his daughter-in-law one of the looks once reserved for the most stupid among his students and she blushed an even angrier shade of red.

"Do you think so, too?" he insisted calmly, his eyes back on the boys' faces.

"We – I mean – it's true, isn't it? There are much more mudbloods and half-blood wizards of dubious origin…"

"Like me, like your father and your aunt, like you," Severus interrupted.

The boy swallowed hard.

"Do you consider us inferior? Do you consider yourselves inferior?"

"N-no," the boys answered, avoiding their grandfather's eyes.

"Your grandma was a Muggle. Does that make her inferior to the ones called Malfoy and Black?"

The boys shook their heads helplessly. It was obvious that they wished themselves far away from this table and their grandfather's merciless interrogation.

"Have there been rumours of a secret society that wants to support pureblood rule?" Severus went on.

The boys looked more and more uncomfortable, they virtually squirmed in their chairs.

"Severus, stop it, you terrify them. Julian is only 16, he…", Nelly said.

"Only 16? I was only 16 when I – when I made the worst mistake in my life."

Furiously he got up and limped around the table. He stood behind the boys and rested his hands on their shoulders.

"Look at me!" he commanded. The boys complied. He took a deep breath.

"Promise me never to join any group that believes in the superiority of one part of the population over another. Don't let yourselves be lured into such a group by the promises of power and influence. Never repeat or believe any opinions, any prejudices, just because they have become a secret creed in the Slytherin common room. You must have inherited some intelligence," he paused briefly, casting a sidelong glance at Nelly, "use it, for Merlin's sake! If you are in doubt, contact your father, your headmaster, any of your teachers before you commit something you are going to regret for the rest of your lives."

His voice had become a fierce whisper, his grip on the boys' shoulders painfully hard. The boys winced.

"Promise!"

They met his eyes and nodded.

"I want to hear you say it!" he demanded.

"We promise."

"Good." Severus' grip relaxed. His hands were shaking. "I want to be alone now, excuse me."

The old man limped out of the living-room. The others listened to his footsteps until they heard a door close. They looked at each other in embarrassed silence.

"What on earth has got into him? He's ruining your birthday, Susanna." Nelly was all indignation.

"He's just worried," Susanna replied. "Excuse me, I'd better look after him."

She put her napkin on the table and left he room.

At her father's door she knocked and entered. Night had fallen outside, but he had not bothered to put the lights on. He was sitting in his armchair and looked up when she came in. Susanna lit the lamps with a flick of her wand.

"I'm sorry, I spoiled your party, Susanna," he said wearily.

"It's ok, Dad. I don't mind.You must be tired."

He snorted. "Oh, yes, I am. Tired of this stupid world and these stupid wizards."

He got up and went over to her.

"Susanna, I'm too old for this. I don't want to see our world in danger of going to pieces once again."

His daughter frowned. What did he mean by this?

"I'll visit Claire."

"Now? In the middle of the night?"

"Yes, now."

There was a strange expression in his eyes and suddenly Susanna understood.

"Dad,…" she said helplessly, stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.

He stroked her hair. "Don't cry, my child. I am very old, it's time for me to join Claire.

Say good-bye to Albus from me, will you?"

She nodded and hugged him even closer.

He bent down and gently kissed her cheek. "Good-bye, Susanna."

Reluctantly she let him go.

He picked up his travelling cloak from a chair and fastened it around his shoulders.

"Dad…!"

He went over to her and kissed her again. Their eyes met and they remained standing next to the window, looking at each other, communicating without words. Finally Severus broke the eye-contact and smiled at his daughter, and she answered the smile, tears in her eyes. Then with a sigh he took his walking-stick and left the room. Without pausing he passed the living-room door and was out of the flat.

It was a beautiful golden afternoon. The late winter sun was already warming and filled with the promise of spring, illuminating the first small, green and yellow buds on the trees and shrubs. The soft breeze played with the brown, dry leaves left over from autumn, driving them across the ground, forming them into small piles in corners and hedges.

Under a large willow tree at the edge of the cemetery a very old man was sitting on a wooden bench, looking at the headstone on the grave in front of him.The man had a thin, pale face with a large nose, white hair that was hanging on his shoulders and he wore a heavy black cloak. He held a walking stick between his knees and seemed to be deeply lost in his thoughts, oblivious of the sunshine around him.

He had been sitting there all night and all day, nearly motionless, his mind wandering in a world of his own.

Later, when the sun was low, the shadows deepened and the air was getting colder, he stirred as if he finally had reached a decision. Levering himself from the bench, he limped over to the grave and touched the polished black granite of the headstone with his free hand. 'Claire Saunders-Snape', it said, '1964 -2050'. The man's skeletal fingers caressed the polished surface. "I'll see you soon," he whispered. And he wrapped his cloak closer around his thin, stooped body and lowered himself to the ground. He drew his hood up for more warmth and privacy and leaned his head against the smooth stone. The sun was sinking and night fell, but the old man didn't move…

A gardener intend on his job of planting the first flowers of spring on the graves found him the following morning still upright, but slumped against the headstone. After several minutes of staring in shock at the cloaked figure, the man fumbled with his mobile with trembling fingers and called the police, who arrived shortly afterwards together with an ambulance. The doctor ran towards the still figure, removed the hood and opened the cloak. But after a quick examination he shook his head sadly. There was nothing they could do, the man was dead. Further examinations for traces of violence or outside influence produced nothing, the old heart simply had stopped beating. The police took care of his wallet with his name and address and a young officer went to break the sad news to the relatives.

Five days later Severus Snape was buried next to his wife…

- The End -

_Thanks to J.K.Rowling for the inspiring characters_


End file.
